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HOME; 



OR, 



The Unlost Paradise. 



BY 



RAY PALMER. 



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NEW YORK: 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH AND COMPANY, 

770 Broadway. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH AND COMPANY, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Wasliington. 



irtss of 

JOHN WILSON AND SON, 

Cavihridge. 



gini»cru of 

ROBERT RUTTER, 

82 a7id 84 Beekman St., 

NEW YORK. 






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TO THE 

ilot5)£rs anti ©au^Jters of 0ux Coxintrg, 

ON WHOM CHIEFLY THE REALIZATION OF THE DIVINE IDEA OF 
THE FAMILY AND HOME MUST DEPEND ; 



WHOSE HIGHEST DISTINCTION IT IS TO MAKE HUMANITY COMPLETE : 

TO ELEVATE, PURIFY AND ADORN DOMESTIC LIFE ; AND TO 

BLESS ALIKE CHILDHOOD, MATURITY AND AGE, WITH 

SWEET AND TENDER MINISTRIES ; 



THESE PAGES ARE MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY 



THE AUTHOR. 






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PREFACE. 



npHIS POEM was conceived and partly executed 
several years ago ; but through the constant 
pressure of official labors, it has lain uncomplc-ted till 
a recent date. Perhaps the delay has been no real 
disadvantage, since special circumstances have of late 
given fresh interest, and, if possible, enhanced impor- 
tance to the theme. 

The writer has desired to present such a picture of 
Home as not only may be, but actually has been, sub- 
stantially realized in instances almost without number. 
The sketch is supposed to have had its original in 
New Enp-land, — not because such Homes are not now 
widely found beyond her boundaries, but because, 
historically, our American Homes there first exhibited 
their highest moral power and beauty ; so that it may 
be fairly claimed that from her, as its source, has 
flowed the purest and best social life of our country. 
The early settlers laid the foundations of society in 
learning and religion ; and it may reasonably be 



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6 PREFACE. 

doubted whether there has ever been another' spot of 
equal extent on the globe, in which so great a number 
of intelligent and virtuous Homes could have been 
counted. The healthful influence of New England 
domestic life now reaches the newdy rising States to 
the very shores of the Pacific. 

To those who have known the joys and permanent 
benefits of well-ordered and happy Homes, the writer 
trusts that the reading of these pages may afford a 
tranquil pleasure. It is well to revive and clierish the 
sweet recollections of childhood and youth, to recall 
the vicissitudes of after years, and to bring back the 
dear faces of the loved and honored who have passed 
away from earth. Such reminiscences tend to make 
the heart better. 

If what has here been written shall help, even in 
the least degree, to elevate in the minds of young 
men and women the ideal of the family and Home, 
and to deepen in the hearts of any a conviction of the 
sacredness and beauty of a pure domestic life and 
the peril to every interest of humanity involved in the 
desecration of household sanctities, the author will 
thankfully recognize the accomplishment of his highest 
purpose. 



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CONTENTS. 



PART I. 



Prelude — Home Earth's Brightest Spot — Everywhere 
Dear — Primitive New England— The Pilgrim Fathers — 
Misjudged and Wronged — In Advance of their Time — 
Their Descendants — A New England Home and its Sur- 
roundings — Domestic Life Ordained of God — Edward 
and Mary, the Newly Married Pair— Humanity Complete 
only in the Union of Man and Woman — A Home's 
History Begun ^ ^ 

PART II. 

The Joy of Wedded Hearts — Morning, and Waking Nature — 
Their Charms Heightened by Youthful Sensibility and by 
Love— Home Not the Abode of Indolence — Its Tasks 
and Burdens— Woman its Queen — Her Court and 
Duties — Her Legitimate Aspirations — Hasband and 
Wife in their Reciprocal Ministries and Influence — The 
First-born — Father and Mother — Enlargement of the 
Family Circle— Death of a Child— Christian Faith and 
Hope 37 



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CONTENTS. 



PART III. 



Healing Power of Time and Occupation — Delights of Child- 
hood — Seclusion of Home — Innocent Sports — Parents 
should Provide and Share Them — Restlessness and 
Aspiration of Youth — Refinement by Contact — Edith 
and Alfred — Dawning Manhood and Womanhood — 
Peculiar Beauty of Youth— Holidays — Thanksgiving — 
Christmas — New Year's — The Sabbath — Woman's In- 
fluence — The Time to Love — Edith and Arthur — The 
Betrothal 67 



PART IV. 

The Bridal — Household Separations — Diverse Tastes and 
Pursuits — Time Giving and Taking — Pleasures of Ap- 
proaching Age — Ella and Filial Duty — Womanly Self- 
Sacrifice and its High Rewards — The Indian Summer ot 
Life ~ Vital Decay — Mary Translated -- Looking and 
Longing — Edward Sleeps — Home Scenes concluded — 
Ella the Heroic — The Christian Home the Hope of 
Humanity — The Eternal Home, with Christ and the 
Family of God 90 



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Domestic happiness, thou only bhss 
Of Paradise that has survived the fall ! 

Cowper. 

Love is life's end : an end but never ending ; 
All joys, all sweets, all happiness awarding ; 
Love is life's wealth, ne'er spent but ever spending. 
More rich by giving, taking by discarding ; 
Love's life's reward, rewarded in rewarding. 

SpeiiseK 






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HOME. 



PART I. 



/^~^OME, gentle lyre ! sequestered from the world, 
Tired of its tumults and its pomps and pride, 
Thee, wonted solace of my careworn heart, 
Glad I resume : intent not now to strike 
With hurried hand thy strings, nor thee to make 
Loud resonant of numbers strange or wild ; 
But, with such mood serene and airy touch 
As best befit soft-breathing harmonies. 
To wake thy tones on a familiar theme. 

As whom necessity ordains to tread 
The arid waste where trackless Libyan sands 
Reflect the sun, seek not in vain to find, 
At distant intervals, some friendly spots 



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12 HOME. 

Where gurgling waters 'neath overshadowing palms 

Invite repose ; so, o'er the wastes of life 

While sent to roam, where pines full oft unfilled 

Intense desire, and nameless ills beset 

Us hapless wanderers on an unknown way, 

We seek and find oases bright and fair. 

Most fair, most bright, art thou, dear peaceful Home, 
Of all best earthly gifts by Heaven bestowed 
Man's pilgrim path to cheer. Ever thou art 
A refuge from the storm ; from the rough wind 
A covert. All who may, in each dark hour 
When sorrows bow the soul, or when of care 
The lighter burden wearily doth press, 
Fly to thy bosom, and secluded find 
In thy sweet influence solace and repose. 
Who know thee not — alas, that such should be ! — 
Pine for thee, and still hope, though hope deferred 
Hath oft made sick the heart, that yet for them 
Some spot shall bear thy well-beloved name. 
The wanderer thinks of thee. With him he bears 



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HOME. 



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A thousand hallowed memories, fondly kept, 

That waken oft afresh. E'en while he treads. 

With heedful musings, old historic ground. 

Rich with the spoils of Time, where crumbling stand 

The hoary monuments of glories dead ; 

Or climbs 'mid Alpine wonders, and surveys 

Rude wilds where Nature all untamed abides; 

In search of thee his truant thought will stray. 

Or if he tempt the main, far, far away 

Swept by the breeze across the heaving deep, 

Fixed on his lonely watch at midnight hour, 

The watery waste around, the stars above. 

Back o'er the flood he roams to visit thee. 

For thee the captive sighs in the still gloom 

Of his dim cell. The warrior grim, what time 

He treads the battle-field where marshalled hosts 

Await the bloody fray — pride on his brow 

And glory on his crest — lets Ml a tear, 

While o'er him steal, like flute-notes faintly heard, 

Remembrances thick-coming of thy joys. 

Dear rest and centre thou of faithful hearts, 



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14 NOME. 

Where'er thy seat ; as well 'neath tropic suns 
As where Arcadian realms boast genial skies, 
Or arctic winter spreads eternal snows ; 
O'er the wide world thy magic spell enchains. 

Not many years have rolled since, where now smile 
New England's happy Homes, the forest stood, 
A mighty wilderness. O'er hills and vales 
Spread virgin groves, where never yet had rung 
The stroke of woodman's axe, and tangled brakes 
i\nd thickets dark, that many a covert wove. 
There prowled the cruel wolf. There undisturbed 
The bear reared her fierce progeny. The owl 
Hooted from his lone seat upon the pine. 
And echo answered back. The eagle soared 
And screamed, or, pouncing on his quivering prey, 
Perched on some naked cliff and fed secure. 
Along the river, gliding broad and slow, 
Or up the rapid brook, that babbling loud 
Rushed from the mountain headlong to the plain. 
The trout and salmon darted unensnared. 



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HOME. 15 

Of human kind sole tenant of the wild, 

The lordly savage reigned, and urged the chase, 

Of useful toil impatient ; or, when war 

Roused his dark passions, from his ambuscade 

Treacherous he darted, and, with horrid yell, 

Vengeful and unrelenting scalped his foe. 

No peaceful Home was then. The dingy squaw, 

The menial of her lord, now left to guard 

The smoky wigwam, now with blows compelled 

Him vagrant to attend with weary load, 

Dragged out, a semi-brute, her wretched life. 

For man, for woman, God all-good ordained 
A worthier destiny. By sacred ties, 
In household life and harmony of love 
He formed them to be joined ; society 
Made sure by nature's law ; and so decreed 
That states and kingdoms should successive rise ; 
That mind with mind in sympathy should wake 
New energies, the needs of men impel 
To foster arts, and search creation through 



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1 6 HOME. 

For knowledge of his own eternal thoughts. 
He meant not the prolific earth should lie 
Incultivate, but, tilled with patient care, 
Should smile with flowers as erst an Eden smiled, 
And yield the culturing hand a rich reward. 
'Twas His behest that bade the forest bow, 
The savage beast retire, and savage men 
Give place to cultivation, order, laws. 

A lonely bark came o'er the stormy sea ; 
Not freighted deep with pelf; it richer bore, 
What famed Golconda's treasures could not buy, 
A band of noble hearts. Men trod that deck 
Who knew that they were men, and freely gave 
For liberty and truth what else w^as dear. 
No factious spirits, who, through spleen or pride. 
Contemned their country's laws and roamed to find 
What earth's circumference within, for them. 
Was nowhere to be found, content and peace. 
Of England's best, to her they fondly clung. 
Proud of her glorious names and old renown ; 



HOME. 17 

And as her loyal sons their lives had spent, 
And with her honored dead had peaceful slept • 
'Neath hallowed aisles in storied chapels dim, 
Less had they loved what most ennobles man — 
Freedom of soul, pure faith, and peace with heaven. 
Hatred hath called them stern ; their sturdy strength 
Of principle hath bigotry misnamed ; 
And levity, with leer and jibe profane. 
Blasphemed their sanctity and saintly zeal. 
'Tis rather bigotry that dares deny 
Their nobleness, their glory that would" stain. 
Warm were their hearts ; none warmer e'er did beat 
In manly breasts ; and humble though their Homes, 
By hard necessity, yet love and beauty there 
Found place for sweet unfolding, nor was mirth 
A stranger at those hearths where nightly blazed 
The fires that made a fireside worth the name. 
Knowledge, religion, virtue — wheresoe'er 
These dwell together, dwell earth's best delights.. 
Not faultless were they, else were they not men ; 
Yet less their own the faults than of their time ; 



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1 8 HOME. 

Of times long past, when many an error reigned 
As yet unchallenged, blinding all alike 
To truths since seen as in the midday blaze. 
Beyond their fellows, keenly had they pierced 
Error's thick-veiling mists, and Truth discerned 
In her diviner forms ; aside had flung 
Falsehoods long honored, maxims cherished long 
That mighty ills had wrought; the good, the right. 
In their great hearts they worshipped; these they 

sought. 
As misers search for gold, with deathless love ; 
Clung to them found, as with the grasp of fate ! 
What if perchance from ardor so intense 
Of quenchless earnestness, their zeal o'erglowed 
At times, and they — their vision not yet clear — 
There erred where all the world had erred till then ? 
Ah ! ye who meanly seek to tear away 
The honors thickly clustered round their brows, 
Yours — yours the lack of heavenly charity 
Ye charge on them ; yours with far less defence I 
On you returned at last shall rest the shame ; 






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HOME. 19 

And as the sun from the clear mirror wipes 
The envious vapor that its lustre dimmed, 
Just Time their names to honor shall restore.* 

Such were thy sires, New England ; such the men 
That tamed thy wilds ; thy slopes and valleys robed 
With waving fields ; made e'en thy rugged hills 
Look kind ; thy teeming cities with their marts. 
Their industries and commerce, rise and thrive. 
Rich among lands art thou in sweet content, 
In health and plenty, born of patient toil. 
Rich in thy stalwart sons and daughters fair. 
That o'er the w^orld, where'er their feet may tread. 
Bear with them blessing. Known of all are they, 
Of keen intelligence and purpose firm. 
About their footsteps truth and freedom spring, 
And law's firm voice is heard — her word obeyed ; 
Wide sown are wisdom's seeds, and useful arts. 
With many a curious, many a rare device, 
Lend force to labor, or embellish life. 

* See Appendix, note A. 



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20 HOME. 

Their Mother they forget not ; but from far, 

Where, ocean-like, the boundless Prairie spreads, 

Where rock-ribbed mountains lift their frowning forms, 

And sunset regions kiss the western wave. 

Their hearts with many a yearning backward turn, 

True to her still ; and all her scenes recalled 

Look fairer seen in memory's mellow light. 

A Holy Land she seems, w^here God abides ; 

Nor seems alone. Holy well named a land 

Where lives a faith divine ; where graceful rise 

Religion's hallowed domes, and close at hand 

The school-house, fit ally, within whose walls 

Kind culture early moulds the plastic mind 

To virtue and to truth ; where stand embowered 

The mantled cottage and the tasteful Home. 

Dear tranquil scenes ! Home, o'er the world a name 

That like a talisman calls to the soul 

All images of bliss, hath here a spell 

Of mightiest w^orking.* Other lands may boast 

More friendly soils ; and blander airs may breathe 

♦ Appendix, note B. 



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HOME. 21 

Upon their spicy beds that odors yield 

More fragrant far ; and birds of rarer note 

Among their groves pour richer melodies ; 

And lordHer dwellings rise. But where hath earth 

A soil more free, a clime that ministers 

More vigor to the frame, or fosters more 

True energy of soul? Where Nature's face 

A nobler aspect — mountain crests that climb 

In their blue dimness, reverend forests tall 

Crowning the hills with majesty and grace, 

And waterfalls that, with sonorous voice 

Softened by distance, charm the listening ear? 

Where doth the rustic dwelling more bespeak 

Substantial comfort, or with happier art 

Where Luxury convenience blend with taste? 

In yon sweet vale that — mingling field and grove 
In fair confusion — fills the roving eye 
With images of beauty ; on a slope 
Gently decUning toward the midday sun, 
A modest mansion stands ; a rural Home ; 



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22 HOME. 

But one of thousands that New England boasts — 

The jewels of her crown — her pride and joy. 

Nor rude, nor splendid, it hath yet a charm, 

A quiet loveliness. Come, ye who dream 

That Peace, an exile, dwells with men no more ; 

Ye who in vain pursue her through the maze 

Where witching pleasure lures, and oft deceived 

As oft the eager chase again renew ; 

Ye who would seek her but in princely halls, 

With fretted ceiling arched and draperies hung 

In gorgeous richness, where luxurious couch 

And orient ottoman invite repose. 

With harp, or lute, by snowy fingers touched, 

That soothes and lulls in soft voluptuous strain — 

Come hither, mark, and muse and grow more wise. 

Lo, where the hand of taste hath graced the scene ! 
The charms of nature by judicious skill 
Are heightened here ; their absence there supplied 
By quaint device. The grassy plat that spreads 
In neat simplicity before the door, 



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HOME, 23 

Majestic elms, by some ancestral hand 
Long years ago transplanted, overhang ; 
Their arching boughs affording grateful shade 
To childhood's laughing groups, that gather there 
In merry mood, on the bright summer day, 
And with their harmless pastimes fill the hours. 
The tasteful garden, with neat fence enclosed, 
Bespeaks attentive culture. Clustering trees, 
The apple, cherry, pear, the tempting peach 
And the delicious plum, are set to please 
The order-loving eye ; and 'mid the shades 
Of their dark foHage half conceal the bovver. 
Round which the woodbine creeps and roses twine. 
Here thickly set the grateful currant grows. 
And the sweet raspberry. The vine there climbs 
O'er the arched trellis ; and, when Autumn claims 
Her offering of fruits, hangs richly out 
Her purple clusters ; while yon beds of flowers, 
Of many a name and hue, their incense pay 
To genial Summer, when they drink her smiles. . 
Here oft at twilight of a summer's eve, 
While linger yet, along the glowing west, 



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24 HOME, 

Clouds, that like golden islands seem to float 

Upon an azure sea, or spread afar 

Like some imperial pavement wrought with art 

Divine, of precious stones, agate and amethyst, 

Sapphire and emerald — come, arm in arm. 

The beautiful and young. The peaceful hour 

Sheds its sweet influence o'er them. Slowly now, 

As best befits such converse as they hold. 

They thread the winding paths, or seek the bower ; 

And now, as with some sudden transport seized, 

Burst forth in merry laugh, and glide along. 

Like tripping fairies, in pursuit and flight 

Alternate, as capricious impulse moves. 

But gay, or grave, alike they waken here, 

'Mid outward loveliness, pure thoughts, and feel 

Quick-kindling sympathies their hearts unite. 

Here, as in earth's first garden, dwells sweet Peace, 

With joys of innocence and social love ; 

A Home is here, with all its histories. 

Its storied past, its present, and to come. 

O'er it have passed the changing lights and shades, 

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HOME. 25 

Or will as years shall run their circles round, 
Which, since was lost the primal Paradise, 
Have checkered all the mortal lot of men. 

Home, 'tis to heaven's wise law we mortals owe 
Thee and all thine. In the first Home was placed 
Not Adam sole ; with him the gentler Eve, 
Woman, man's other self, in whom alone 
His complement he finds. God called, 'tis said, 
Not his, but their name, Adam, in the day 
When He humanity complete had made. 
E'er since, in thee, O wedded love, are laid 
The deep foundations of domestic bliss ; 
With thee, through all the cycles, have been hid 
Sweet springs of joy whence, like full streams, have 

flowed 
Earth's pleasures that are likest those of heaven. 
For what is heaven save innocence and love 
Inseparable — in mystic life combined ? — 
The sympathy of hearts that throb and glow 
With love's quick impulse , and harmonious beat, 









26 HOME, 

Each vibrating to each, as in the harp 

To one touched string according strings respond? 

Eternal Love, intent to make earth blest 

With all best joys, nor man nor woman made 

For unrelated life, but each for each ; 

Each only in the other without lack 

Of somewhat that, unfound, the restless heart 

Yearns ever, nor can know a full content. 

O subtile instinct ! Hidden law deep wrought 

Into the soul's own texture, by His will 

Who, Love Himself, man in his likeness framed 

To dwell in love ; his native element. 

The vital air, in which to live and move ! 

God and thy kind both loved with one pure flame, 

O mortal, thou most like to God shalt be, 

Blessing and blessed ; and by thy stony paths 

Shall spring such flowers as Paradise did yield 

Ere with the reign of love her all she lost. 

Yon mansion long ago, one summer morn, 
A morn bright, dewy, fresh with balmy breath 



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HOME. 27 

Of myriad blossoms laughing o'er the fields, 
Received a youthful pair. Late at God's shrine 
In holy rite made one, hand joined to hand 
As heart before to heart, here they begin. 
Rich in fair hopes and visions, and yet more 
In fresh affections, for themselves and theirs 
A Home to found and consecrate. Henceforth, 
Holy the place shall be through opening years, 
In all their thoughts ; sacred to wedded love, 
To tranquil joys, to purity, to peace ; 
To healthful pleasures with each other shared ; 
To useful tasks together daily wrought ; 
To books and culture, and congenial friends ; 
To piety, and prayer, and heavenward steps ; 
To all that earth yet yields to faithful hearts 
Demonstrative that once an Eden was. 
And proof, by foretaste, that a heaven shall be. 
Edward and Mary — these the names they bore ; 
Names, like their story, neither new nor strange. 
Nor name nor story such as one might choose 
Who with romantic tale, or legend old. 



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28 HOME. 

Or startling horror, would the listless rouse ; 
But suiting well the simple and the true. 

O happy man ! To whom of God 'tis given 
To lead, a joyous bride, one who has taught 
Thy heart — that as in fevered restlessness, 
Far roving, stayed not till her gentle eye 
Seized it and fast a willing captive held — 
To end its rovings and in her to rest ! 
How like an angel in the robes of heaven 
She stands beside thee — thine own angel now I 
How beats with manly pride thy heart, the while 
Thou lead'st her from the altar to the seat. 
Her fitting throne, at Home's dear centre placed; 
Where, as a queen, ruling without command. 
She, radiant as the morning star, shall shine. 
Mighty in gentleness, in sweetness strong. 
It is but meet that on her maiden brow. 
And in the eyes that kindle at thy glance. 
Thou shouldst enraptured gaze ; and gazing find 
Thy soul with nobler manliness inspired. 



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HOME. 29 

And high ambitions all unfelt before. 
Henceforth, for thee shall each returning dawn 
Wake worthiest thoughts. Not for thyself alone, 
Thou shalt go forth life's battle-fields to try ; 
But with chivalric tread and lance in rest, 
P'or her, to death if need, in gallant strife 
Thou shalt defend all honor, truth and right ; 
Win all that may on her true lustre shed ; 
And shield her from all ills that courage firm, 
And strength of love, and patience can avert. 
For God and her ! What impulse canst thou lack 
To wrestle with all dangers, to withstand 
Pleasure's seductive call, and Duty's voice 
With quenchless ardor ever to obey ! 

Thou too, O woman, of thy kind most blest, 
Who in thy spring of beauty standest glad 
Beside thy well beloved and call'st him now 
Thy husband ! Name so rich to thy fond heart, 
In promise of best joys that earth can know. 
To thee no music hke the bridegroom's voice ; 






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30 HOME. 

To that thy tremulous heart instant responds, 

x\s to the soft west wind the swelling strain 

Waked on the harp-string breathes its sweetness back. 

In him thy strength thou seest. The sturdy arm 

To which thou cling'st confiding, thine shall be 

In danger's hour for succor and defence ; 

For kind support when on the toilsome way 

Thy steps would falter, or thy heart grow faint. 

His wisdom, courage, manhood, to thy soul 

More nicely strung, with quicker, keener sense 

By God endowed, shall healthful reverence wake 

And restful confidence ; shall teach thy thought 

In generous rivalry to tempt the heights 

Of intellectual grandeur and to grasp 

What best and highest mortal powers may reach, 

Of knowledge that exalts and gifts that charm. 

Will he repress thee? Ay, as summer suns 

Repress the morning rosebud, opening wide 

Its bosom to the day and calling forth 

Its sweetest odors and its loveliest hues ! 

Edward and Mary, each in each complete ! 



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HOME. 31 

Husband and wife, but one Humanity — 
One conscious life full-flowing — with one heart, 
One will, one end supreme, one blessedness ! 
'Twas so that God ordained domestic bliss. 

Now, with exultant step, from room to room 
They wander, and well pleased each trait survey 
Of this their new abode — their Home, when time 
And love and joys the place hath sanctified, 
When sorrow's shade, perchance, has overhung 
And hallowed it, baptized with holy tears. 
Till tenderest memories, gathered one by one, 
Thick clustering, link each object to the heart. 
Like children, whom new toys or pleasures fill 
With gushing raptures, they with quick survey 
Scan each apartment ; try each chair and lounge ; 
Look from each window on the prospect fair ; 
Each picture on the garnished walls observe 
With keenest glance, as if with critic's eye 
In Angelo, or Raphael, they sought 
Some touch of grace unnoted e'er before. 



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32 HOME. 

But in each other, chiefly, pleased they see 

The graces most transcendent ; and the Hght 

Of love within sufflises each dear face. 

And glows, as when through some fair vase or globe 

Translucent softly ^ines the embosomed flame. 

So passed with silent feet the jocund Hours. 
Then while this first day of their wedded life 
Closed over them serene, and twiHght fell, 
Hand clasped in hand they sat, till daylight died 
And set love's favorite star; too full their hearts 
For words ; their silent bliss like some sweet dream. 
Thus for a time. But when the deepened shade 
Their faces veiled, it was as if each tongue 
Gained freedom and each heart, unlocked, 
Revealed its hidden treasures ; and they talked 
As ne'er before of all the vanished past, 
Of present pleasures and of dawning hopes ; 
Of all that each to each aspired to be 
In the great life-work. Then at last they kneeled 
With hearts in true accord before the throne, 

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HOME. 33 

Their Fathers throne of pure eternal love, 
And In His name who bore the bitter cross 
Forgiveness sought and breathed their praise to heaven. 
Angels I to whom of God the task is given 
With loving ministries, though all unseen, to watch 
And keep, with care unwearied, every hour. 
The heirs of life whose souls in love abide ; 
Ye at that hour were nigh. Ye saw them bow 
And worship ; heard those fervent lips declare 
That God should be their God ; heard them entreat 
That He whom heaven itself, the heaven of heavens, 
Could not contain, would with them deign to dwell. 
Gladdening their Home and hearts with that same 

smile 
That gladdens all above ; would own them His, 
Them and their household, and in trouble's day, 
Or when thick perils should beset them round, 
Such as must come to all, comfort and rest 
Beneath the shadow of his wings would give. 
Ye saw — for ye have spiritual vision clear — 
How rose their warm affections to the throne, 



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34 HOME. 

As when of old the smoke of incense, cast 
On glowing altars, rose in circling wreaths, 
And He who dwelt between the cherubim 
Smelled a sweet savor. Thou thyself didst hear, 
Thou without whom not e'en the sparrow falls ; 
The trust Thou didst accept, and didst command 
Thy blessing ; charge to all good angels Thou 
Didst give, by night and day, with ceaseless guard 
All evils to forefend, save such as needs 
Must be for Virtue's sake, that ever best 
Thrives while she wrestles, by thy grace made strong. 
Henceforth, thrice happy pair, although for you 
Each day new cares may spring and duty set 
New tasks, with these shall come celestial Peace, 
And, where God dwells and dear domestic love. 
Shall nestle and abide. Earth's purest joys, 
tlnsating because pure, there fresh shall spring 
As o'er you swiftly pass the fleeting years : 
Till from this earthly Home ye pass to heaven. 



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I SAW her upon nearer view, 

A Spirit, yet a Woman too ! 

Her household motions light and free, 

And steps of virgin liberty ; 

A countenance in which did meet 

Sweet records, promises as sweet ; 

A creature not too bright or good 

For human nature's daily food ; 

For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 

Wordsworth. 



There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes, 
For her new born babe beside her lies ; 
O heaven of bliss ! when the heart o'erflows 
With the rapture a inother only knows ! 

Henry Ware, Jr. 



* 



PART II. 

f~\ JOY of joys ! the joy of wedded hearts, 

That at God's shrine in youthful freshness joined, 
Are one for ever — mystery of love ! 
Thenceforth, like two clear fountains side b}^ side, 
That pour their waters into one bright stream. 
They blend their free affections, till the tide. 
In one deep channel, floweth ever on. 
As in green meadows by some river's side. 
Spring 'neath the sun daisy and violet. 
With many a peer, of many a name and tinge. 
And blossom numberless to grace the scene ; 
So where that sacred current affluent glides 
Through the charmed valley of domestic bliss. 
Shoot forth all virtues that humanity 
Do most adorn and beauty lend to life. 
Here sheltered, they may bud and bloom secure 



^J 



JL , — » 






38 HOME. 

From beasts that raven the wide world abroad ; 
In rich luxuriance grow, and crow^n thee, Home, 
With graces that most charm the pure in heart. 
No cynic eye thy secrecy invades, 
To note, and noting check, love's language true, 
That half unconsciously, with artless art. 
And simplest act, some secret meaning tells. 
A gentle word ; a glance ; perchance a kiss ; 
Or whate'er slightest ministry may prove 
Expressive of the fulness that o'erflows 
Each happy heart — so hours as minutes fly ! 
In this, his fortress. Love in freedom reigns ; 
Commands, obeys, nor to distinguish knows 
Dut}^ and pleasure, since they here are one. 

Now wakes the morn — Nature's great miracle, 
Repeated ever, yet for ever new — 
When start afresh the busy wheels of life, 
That through night's silent reign awhile stood still 
Listen ! what mingled sounds swell on the ear, 
While kindle Nature's slumbers into smiles ! 



T<\ 



""r 



HOME. 39 

The groves, but now so still, grow vocal, and pour 

forth 
From thousand tuneful throats such melodies 
As might e'en Dulness, drowsy maid, herself 
Awake to ecstasy. June's unmown fields 
Stand tremulous, all wet with silvery dew, 
Night's grateful benison. The clouds that hung 
Like parting curtains when the day awoke, 
Transfigured, glow as dipped in Tyrian dyes 
Of hue celestial — ruby, jasper, gold. 
The chariot of the King of Day they seem. 
In which, with pomp ascending o'er the heights, 
He climbs the noonward path. The wreathing mists 
That hide, and yet reveal, the stream that winds 
Along the quiet valley, slowly lift, 
Like beauty's veil, and show the grace beneath. 
The voice of flocks and herds that hasten forth 
Eager to taste the pasture blend confused, 
Yet please the listening ear. The flowery train, 
With which bright Summer loves at early dawn 
Her retinue to fill, spread o'er the fields, 



1 






40 



HOME. 



Entincturlncr with their breath the rovincr wind 

That wooes them in their sweetness, while they seem, 

As if in conscious life, to glow with joy. 

These, Morning, are thy charms ; and ever new, 

From bounding childhood down to tottering age. 

To hearts with inborn tenderness endowed, 

And natures finely tuned, they yield delight. 

Yet 'tis when hearts most leap with gladsome life, 
And passion's impulses ; with eager hopes. 
Imaginations, fancies, visions, dreams. 
And, born of these, emotions, like pent fires 
That will not be repressed, but force their way ; 
'Tis when youth's throbbing pulses send their blood 
Swift coursing through the veins, and every sense 
And sensibility is quick and keen ; 
'Tis most of all when love, pure, happy love. 
So permeates wdth its subtile force the breast. 
That thought and purpose, sympathy and will, 
Delighted own its sway ; oh, yes ! 'tis then 
That most the world enrobes itself in light, 



^?r 



* 






HOME. 41 

With beauty all suffused ; that morn and eve, 

Sun, moon, and stars, and ocean, lake, and stream, 

Woods, hills, and fields, and all earth's features fair. 

Seem as incarnadined with roseate hues. 

And through the liquid air there seems to float 

A glory, that intoxicates the soul 

With dreamy bliss, and to the softened heart 

Makes Nature's simplest, lowliest work divine. 

'Twas thus exultant and elate, that morn. 
That Edward stood, with Mary at his side. 
And from the casement gazed, with open heart 
Drinking all sweetness from the radiant scene, 
Through every sense ; while in her beaming face 
He saw reflected his own tranquil joy. 
To both, on this their wedded life's first day, 
With omens kind begun, ne'er looked before 
The world so beautiful ; ne'er God himself, 
The Infinite Creator, seemed so good. 
And while, with the ascending sun, went up 
From off the dewy earth the morning mists, 

"k — ^ 



^ 



42 



HOME. 



^ 



Rising like incense, from their tuneful lips 
And hearts o'erflowing, rose their hymn of praise 
With fervent orisons to listening Heaven, 
Whither no voice of love ascends in vain. 

Is then the goal attained? Is this retreat — 
The dream of many a year at last fulfilled — 
A bower of ease, in which, with lotus charm, 
The past may be forgot; the future, veiled 
In golden haze, be all unquestioned left. 
And purpose high in pleasure's cup be drowned ? 
No ! In the blissful shades where primal man 
Walked innocent with God, 'twas given to dress 
And keep the garden — toil no natural ill. 
For use, O mortal, God thy powers hath given, 
And made their use a joy. In labors meet. 
Pursued for virtue's ends, in good achieved 
And triumphs won by sacrifice, by love 
Enlarged and w4th all generous yearnings filled, 
Thou shalt such pleasures find as most exalt 
Thy being and thy restless soul compose. 



* 



"^ 



HOME. 43 

Not by ignoble ease, but noble deeds, 
Thou dost reveal the spirit all divine 
That in thee lives and makes thee like to God 
And brother of the angels, who, as winds 
And flames of fire, are swift to work his will ; 
For thee, as them, to serve is to be blest. 

Home hath its tasks. Each day demands anew 
The thoughtful purpose and the skilful hand. 
Thou, Mary, now crowned queen of this fair realm, 
Must wield thy sceptre and with gentle grace, 
Grace that to thee is power, shouldst wield it well. 
'Tis thine this Home to fashion as thou wilt ; 
To give it thine own impress, till it seems 
Pervaded by thy spirit — full of thee ! 
'Tis thine to guard its order, beauty, health; 
To keep it ever free from passion's jar 
And discord's grating tones, nor e'er permit 
The clamors of the rude and noisy world 
Its quiet to invade. Here thou hast power, 
By thine own magic arts, o'er all to shed 



i 



44 HOME. 

The living air of joy, that whoso breathes 

Shall seem, as by enchantment, warmed and fillfd 

With genial gladness. Here, by thee beguiled. 

The troubled brow shall lose its furrows, deep 

By cares inwrought ; the heavy heart grow light 

And gather strength and courage for new toils. 

Music with sounding string and richest strain, 

And Poesy with all her visions rare, 

And kindred arts whose simplest gifts may please, 

Shall blend their charms to grace thy queenly state, 

Obedient to thy summons. Nor shall Mirth 

Withhold her ringing laugh when thou shalt call ; 

But, with all innocent pleasures in her train, 

Shall come to visit thee and lend her aid 

To make thy court earth's fairest, happiest spot. 

Yet not to Hstless ease, nor pleasure's round. 
The hfe inane that pampered luxury 
Elsewhere delights to lead, thy realm be given. 
This is thy pride. New England, that thy Homes 
With healthful industries did e'er abound. 






• HOME. 45 

Thy matrons, in the halcyon days of yore, 

Lived not alone to order well their house 

And ply the needle, but with vigorous grasp 

Wielded the loom ; and from the distajff drew 

With busy hand and foot the flaxen thread ; 

Carded the wool and twirled the humming wheel. 

O days of sweet content ! No need was then 

That commerce rifle every foreign strand 

From India to Peru, with raiment meet 

Brought from afar, the household to attire. 

If of this glory thou no more canst boast 

As thou wast wont — so times and manners change — 

Yet are thy dwellings Industry's abode ; 

Her name is honored there. So let it be, 

Till Plymouth Rock itself shall waste with years ! 

Yes, Mary ! If a queen thou hast been crowned, 
Forget not that with crowns there needs must come 
Duty and care. Life opens now to thee 
Its long perspective, and arrayed thou seest, 
Far stretching on before, its years of toil ; 



* 



^ 



46 



HOME. 



■^ 



Pleasing, not terrible, the vision seems. 

Thou wouldst not live a cipher. Thy young heart 

Throbs with its eagerness a part to bear, 

Some worthy part, among the good and brave 

Who live to conquer ill, and love the strifes 

Whose prize is gladness and whose fruits are Peace. 

No weak ambition thine to send thy name 

Resounding, like an echo, through the world; 

Made common on all lips, sullied perchance 

By its rude contacts, and its fragrance lost ! 

Wiser, thou choosest in the tranquil sphere 

Of (Jear domestic peace, by duty done 

To grave thine image on the loving hearts 

That gather round thee, to thine influence sweet 

Opening, as lilies on the placid stream 

Bare their fair bosoms to the grateful sun. 

Nobler thou deem'st the task, that manly heart 

Now knit to thine, beyond all chance to hold 

Loyal to thee and restful in thy truth ; 

To make thyself his ever conscious want. 

His life's chief joy ; nor, striving, shalt thou fail 



■^^ 



i 



HOME. 47 

O'er him to throw thy spells. Thy morning smile 

Will sweetly haunt him through the livelong hours. 

E'en 'mid the din of business, on his ear 

Will steal thy tones. As thou each day for him, 

So he for thee, shall think and plan and toil. 

Wealth, honor, fame — whate'er of either crowns 

His patient strivings, most of all for thee 

His thought will prize ; and nightly at thy feet. 

With noble pride, he will exulting lay 

The trophies he has won. Or if perchance, 

In the rough contacts of a restless world. 

Where thickly, oft, keen shafts of malice fly, 

He hath been wounded sore ; if on him fall 

Misfortune's lowering shade, with doubt and dread 

That tire the soul with watching, and his heart. 

Firm though it be, half faints ; he then to thee 

Shall turn for strength and healing ; and thy voice, 

Thy cheering glance, thy counsels and thy prayer, 

Shall nerve him all anew ; with ardor fired 

Shall send him to the battle's front again, 

New triumphs in heroic strife to win. 



48 



HOME. 



1^ 



Thou too shalt own his power. As he to thee 
Shall turn for love's deep tenderness, and warm 
Each day anew his heart at the pure flame 
That, as on vestal altars, ever glows 
Within thy breast ; so thou when burdens press, 
Or dangers gather thick, in him shall see 
Thy helper strong ; and ever by his side 
More surely thou shalt scale the rugged steeps 
And passes perilous that wait thy feet. 
In his life thou shalt live, and so become 
Worthy of high companionship and meet. 
Sharing his struggles, with him to be crowned. 
Each year shall thus thy being's measure fill. 
The treasures hidden in thy soul unlock, 
And make thee rich in dignity and grace, 
And all that most exalts ; till thou, the wife, 
Shalt stand confessed the glory of the man 
Thy husband, and he thine; by trial each 
Proved to the other equal, helper, friend. 



"% 



>bi , __: ^ 

HOME. 49 

Oh, lightly dance the hours, and swift the day 
Speeds round its circuit, if the heart be glad ! 
When with the frequent task and press of care 
Come many a kindly impulse, born of love. 
And many a fantasy, that warm the soul 
With ever fresh delight ; when sympathies 
Seem e'en, like odors that exhale, to rise 
Spontaneous, and to breathe themselves abroad 
As if from sheer exuberance ; and there flits 
Before affection's eye the image fair 
Of a dear face that absence cannot hide ; — 
Then, Time, thou turn'st in vain thy flowing glass, 
To mark thy flight ; no note the sand receives ! 
'Tis so that in that Home days seem but hours. 
And weeks but days, and months, as weeks, go by. 
The blithesome wife guides all with patient skill. 
And taste that seems an instinct ; fain to make 
Parlor and library, each several room. 
Each mantle, niche and arch, or deep recess, 
Fair with chaste beauty, grateful to his eye 
Whose look approving, oft as he returns, 

4 



^r 



50 HOME. 

For her illuminates and gladdens all. 

Soon gorgeous Summer with light tread has passed ; 

And Autumn, laden with his fruits and sheaves, 

Enrobed and garlanded with dying leaves 

That dolphin-like grow beautiful in death, 

Has hasted by, and seems a vision gone ; 

Winter with hoary head and frosty breath 

Hath let loose all his storms, and the free streams 

And yielding earth hath fixed as adamant. 

Fled swiftly all ; yet, in their passing, rich 

In pleasures innocent and duties done ; 

In memories that, as treasures of the soul. 

Shall live unfading down to distant years. 

When, in life's twihght dim, quiescent age 

Backward shall turn to wander o'er the past. 

Then trod again shall be those evening strolls 

In the still gloaming, or when climbed the moon, 

While nature's kindliest influence softly stole 

O'er each fond heart ; lived o'er again shall be 

Those fireside hours when each by turns or read, 

Or eager listened to the thrilling tale, 



^F" 



HOME. 51 

To some old poet's lay, or ballad wild, 

Or History's roll of deeds and men renowned. 

But, blessed Home, these are not all thy joys; 
Yet undiscovered are thy purest springs, 
The streams untasted yet of holiest bliss 
From wedded love by God ordained to flow. 
Though now, ye favored pair, your cup seem full, 
A gladder hour is nigh ; a brighter star 
Than e'er before your watchful eyes did greet 
Now rises, o'er your path to shed its ray. 
Hark ! a new sound arrests the quickened ear ! 
A voice ! a cry ! — the cry of infancy ! 
Through every room it thrills ; the very walls 
That echo it, with sympathy seem touched.- 
A babe is born I Mother — O hallowed name ! 
Mary, that name is thine ! close to thy heart, 
Quick beating with a rapture all unknown 
Till this blest moment, thou dost fold and press 
Thy first born son ! Thine anguish all forgot, 
A joy so deep, so pure, so brimming o'er, 



k 



52 HOME. 

Possesses thy whole being, that to thee 

It seems a new existence ; ay, so strange 

Thou almost deem'st it but a bhssful dream 

From which thou may'st awake. No — no ! 

Thou art a mother to eternal years I 

Life of thy life, that helpless one is born 

Immortal as the angels ; by thy side 

It shall still live when, as old seers have sung, 

The ancient heavens have been together rolled. 

And earth hath perished by devouring tire. 

'Tis thine, for immortality, to guard and keep 

The priceless treasure. Unto thee 'tis given — 

No work of earth more sacred, more sublime — 

That trembling spirit to insphere in love," 

To fashion it by love's sweet ministries, 

Till faculties yet hidden, full revealed. 

Declare it fellow of the hosts of heaven ! 

No marvel if thy heart, at thoughts like these, 

Doth falter, burdened with the mighty trust. 



^ 



^ — 5^ 

HOME. 53 

But not alone thou bear'st it. There is j^et 
Another hoi}" name. Thou, Edward, art 
A Father ! — name like God's ! a changeless name. 
Thy manly soul, warmed with paternal love. 
Calm, deep, and steady as a river's tide, 
By this new life shall feel its ow^n enlarged. 
More joyous made and richer. Thou shalt find 
In this, thy son, what seems another self; 
Another centre, round which may revolve 
Thy best affections and thy busy thought. 
E'en while his infant prattle wakes the smile 
Of fatherly delight, within thy breast 
Grave questionings shall rise, with hopes and fears. • 
" How with thee shall it fare, unconscious child — 
How wilt thou bear thyself, upon life's field 
Where foe meets foe and wile encounters wile ; 
Where hapless thousands fall, or, wounded sore, 
Survive but wrecks, unfit for noble tasks? 
What destinies are thine? Wait there for thee 
The shouts of triumph? or the pang and shame 
Of final, sad defeat?" So wilt thou ask; 

^^ _- ^ ^ 



■^ 



54 HOME. 

And then, with impulse new, thy soul will rise 
To the firm purpose that in thee thy child 
Shall find a model true, a wisdom pure ; 
Shall see a life well hved, and with thee walk 
As one that breathes in virtue's bracing air ; 
As one divinely led, a child of heaven ! 

Father and Mother ! holiest names of earth ! 
Lo ! now, blest Home, thy circle made complete ! 
Thy pleasures full ! Now, in each throbbing breast, 
AH sweetest chords, unstruck before, are touched ; 
Vibrations exquisite, that slept, awake, 
And the' whole compass of the soul pours forth 
Harmonious peeans ; as some organ full — 
Drawn every stop — its perfect volume swells, ^ 
And with its faultless chorus charms the ear. 
Yet o'er the world, to each fond parent's eye, 
A nameless change has passed. A graver hue 
Now tinges earth and sky, that laughed before 
In flashing light and beauty ever gay. 
Not less the light and beauty, nor the bliss 



X. 



* 



^ ^ ^ 

HOME. 55 

Of those beholding ; but all things seem charged 
With meanings deeper far, that needs must lend 
An aspect chastened and a tone subdued 
To nature's face, softer yet richer too. 
Emotions now first waked, and loftier aims 
Than e'er before had stirred the conscious soul 
Write on each brow new dignity of thought. 

As when is read some drama, rarely wrought 
By genius' magic pen, the first act past, 
That with strange power the attentive mind hath seized, 
All note of time is lost, or heeded not. 
While act on act succeeds till comes the last, 
That disenchants the reader spell-bound long ; 
So when thy scenes, dear Home, divinely planned, 
Have opened as if bathed in silver light, 
Have cheerily swept on beyond the days 
Of love's first raptures and the blissful hour 
When felt the first-born's brow a mother's kiss, 
The plot fast thickens, and intenser grow 
The sympathies that fill and hold the heart, 



* 



^ ^ m 

56 HOME. 

Ever yet more content, while through quick years 

The changeful action hasteth swiftly on. 

One' charming prattler scarce hath learned to lisp 

The names most musical to infant tongues, 

Ere yet another cherub face appears 

In the pleased household, and in time's full round 

Yet others still. Come added cares with each. 

And duties new ; but with such gushing love. 

Such influx of deep joy, that all forgot 

Or drowned in ecstasies, or tranquil bliss. 

The weightier burdens seem. Life richer grows, 

As, with the years, fair sons and daughters rise 

In beauty fresh, like olive plants, to stand. 

Father and mother ! How their hearts expand, 
As large, and larger yet, becomes the sphere 
Where sweet affections reign ; where brother blends 
His rougher vigor with a sister's grace ; 
Somewhat each borrows and each somewhat lends, 
And all, as one, true filial honor pay. 
Home, thou art richer so than piled with gold 

"k — ^ -k 



HOME. 






57 



And rarest gems, yet wanting loving hearts ; 
Fairer than with all garniture bedecked 
Of princely halls, with splendors cold, and pride. 
If matched with thine, all other jewels pale ; 
E'en God himself with pleasure thine beholds. 
Brothers and sisters ! what blest concord binds 
.Congenial souls that breathe in virtue's air ! 
How are they knit by inborn instincts kind. 
By common blood and birth, by childhood's sports 
Together shared in many a shining hour. 
By transient griefs, and alternations quick 
Of hope and fear, that each has felt with all, 
All felt with each. Concord more perfect made 
By such sHght discords as in all have wrought 
More watchful tenderness of patient love. 
More of thy strength, divine self-sacrifice ! 

Dwells then, O Earth, e'en in thy fairest spot, 
A perfect bliss? Giv'st thou enduring joys. 
Where nothing fixed abides? The circling years, 
That swiftly chase each other in their flight. 



i^ 



-^ 



¥ 



^ 



58 HOME. 

Bring ceaseless change. Lo ! Morning with her dews, 

And songs and bloom ; still Evening with her shades ; 

Sabbaths with holy calm, that yield too soon 

To seasons given to rounds of wearying toil ; 

Months marked by waxing and by waning moons ; 

Spring with its waking life, Summer arrayed 

In robes that fade so soon ; Autumn that strips 

The teeming fields, and leaves them brown and sere ; 

Winter that with his storms deep buries all 

Kind Nature's smiles beneath his chilling snows ! 

Each comes but to depart, nor long abides. 

See how like withering grass all beauty fades, 

And strength to weakness turns ; how the firm rock 

Slowly, but surely, crumbleth back to dust ; 

How life's uncounted forms dissolve, O Death, 

At thy cold touch that blighteth all alike ! 

Hath earth one spot so sheltered, so secure. 

That there no change, no pang, no sense of loss. 

No fear of ill, no sorrow, e'er can come? 

No: even within thy precincts, sacred Home, 

Must it at last be known that 'neath the sun 

No mortal heart can beat and feel no wound. 



2^ 



HOME. 59 

Edward, what aileth thee, that anguish sits 
Where smiles, hke glancing lights, were wont to play ? 
Mary, thy cheek is blanched ; th}^ restless eye 
Turns frequent here and there, as if it sought 
To rest on one with whom might come relief! 
Ah, yes ! a tender lamb of that fair flock 
O'er which to watch hath been by day, by night, 
Thy life's chief joy, now by the wayside droops ; 
Droops on from hour to hour ; no skill avails 
To cool the fevered brow, or light again 
The languid eyes that kindle now no more. 
In vain, O mother, have thy faithful arms 
Enfolded him and pressed him to thy heart. 
No care, nor yearning of maternal love, 
Nor father's wrestling hope, can stay the step 
Of Sorrow — awful form ! — too clearly seen 
Advancing ; in her hands the cup of woe. 
Of which 'tis given all mortal lips to taste. 

'Tis o'er. Hark ! Hark ! soft on the startled ear 
Music unearthly steals ! celestial notes 









60 HOME. 

And melodies, as from the airy lips 

Of spirits all unseen, with mingled lyres 

Touched as by angel fingers, seem to fill 

The tranquil air. Ye cannot catch the strain, 

But well ye deem that lovingly it greets 

The gentle spirit of its clay disrobed. 

Bear — bear the cherub, angels, to His arms 

Who in his mortal years such lambs did fold 

Close on his heart with heavenly grace and smiles. 

And blessed and called them his, and said, — " Of such 

Heaven's holy kingdom shall for ever be." 

He hath its name already on his hands 

Engraven, and hath watched it as his own ; 

And with a tenderness surpassing thine, 

O mother. He thine innocent will meet. 

Will soothe its fears and win its love with smiles 

Of sweetness so divine that it shall need 

No more e'en thy dear ministries, to fill 

Tfie measure of its bliss to full content. 

What thou hadst thought to teach it. He will teach, 

Of wisdom, goodness, beauty, truth, and love; 



* 



HOME. 6l 

His care will guard and train it till the hour 

When thou shalt come, the blessed day arrived, 

With thine own ej^es, long waiting, to behold 

The vision of the Lamb. Back to thine arms 

Then He the faithful Shepherd shall restore 

Thy child — still thine — the same o'er which did fall 

Thy bitter tears when lost to thee he seemed. 

The same, yet not the same ! more beautiful 

Beyond compare, e'en as the hyacinth 

That perfect stands, unfolded every grace, 

Is lovelier than the bulb that held it once, 

And hid its purple hues. Ah ! then thy joy 

The memory of thy grief at last shall drown ; 

And with all ecstasies of thankful love 

And praise admiring, shall thy soul o'erflow. 

He lies upon the bier, pale, silent, cold, 
Yet beauteous still. Disease hath stolen away 
But little from the face that late did seem 
Almost a seraph's. On the marble brow 
Chiselled so daintily, so calm, so pure, 



5^r 



:^^ 



^^ — ^ ^ — — ^ 

62 HOME. 

Lies, as in carelessness, the flaxen hair. 

In tranquil slumber one might deem he rests, 

But that the leaden eye a sleep bespeaks 

Too deep for waking. Folded on the breast, 

Now motionless, repose the snowy hands 

With flowers o'er-strown ; strange contrast ! e'en as 

when 
Thick clustering violets are seen to spring, 
Or lilies of the valley, w^here the drifts 
Of winter part, touched by the vernal sun. 
Mary, they saw thee come — and stand — and gaze — 
As if thy soul, wdth anguish wrestling long. 
At last had mastered its fierce inward strife ; 
As if a self-command that awful seemed 
Had changed thee to a statue ; saw thee take 
Thy last, last look, and heard thy lips pronounce, 
" My boy — thou'rt mine no more ! I give thee back 
To God who gave thee ! O farewell I — farewell ! " 
So triumphed faith when anguish wrung the heart ; 
And as the rainbow spans the cloud o'erpast, 
Emblem of peace that waits beyond the storm, 






HOME. 63 

Thou saw'st with tranquil eye dark sorrow's gloom, 
Irradiate with the glow of heaven's own light, 
The pledge of days serene beyond these tears, 
The harbinger of healing, rest, and peace. 



* 



k 






— ^ 



PART III. 






* 



^ 



WOULDST thou from sorrow find a sweet relief? 

Or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold ? 

Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief? 

Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold ! 

'Tis when the rose is wrapped in many a fold 

Close to its heart, the worm is wasting there 

Its life and beauty ; not when all unrolled, 

Leaf after leaf, its bosom rich and fair 

Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the ambient air. 

Carlos Wilcox. 



There blend the ties that strengthen 

Our hearts in hours of grief, 
The silver links that lengthen 

Joy's visits when most brief! 
Then dost thou sigh for pleasure ? 

Oh, do not widely roam ! 
But seek that hidden treasure 

At Home, dear Home ! 

Bernard Barton. 



^T 



* 



PART III. 



/^ Sx\CRED spot of earth, where gentle hands 
Have laid the fragile form, so late suffused 
With life's first glow, beneath the friendly mould ; 
To slumber undisturbed where daisies spring 
Unbidden, and the turf, with every dawn, 
Seems wet afresh with tears ! There by fond hands 
Ivv and myrtle have been taught to twine ; 
The snow-drop spotless and forget-me-not 
To bloom in simple beauty, emblems meet 
Of purity and of immortal love. 
The friendly trees their drooping boughs o'erhang 
As if in sympathy. The summer birds 
Chant tender carols through the shining hours ; 
And mingled lights and shades so softly blend, 
That neither garish day nor gloom doth reign, 
But grateful twilight lingers ever there. 



"^iL. 



6S HOME. 

Dear, oft-frequented scene ! 'Tis not that here 

The sorrowing heart deems its lost treasure hid. 

The living spirit that once blithely wore 

The mortal robe that wasteth here to dust, 

Dwells far, far hence, it knows, 'neath kinder skies. 

But memories all undying centre where 

This dust reposes, quick to stir anew ; 

Oft as with lingering steps this scene is trod, 

The past is lived again ; its bliss renewed ; 

And grief becomes but tenderness and hope, 

Till o'er the heart there steals a holy calm. 

And balm from heaven hath healed its bleeding wounds. 

Toil is no curse to mortals ; nor the cares 
That make the price for life's best comforts paid. 
Both have a charm — when on the saddened heart 
Despondency and griefs, like clouds, have hung 
Till into starless night day seems transformed — 
The tide of ever busy thought to turn ; 
That winding ever farther, farther on. 
Behind it leaves the dreariness and wastes ; 






* 



HOME. 69 

And as, by slow degrees, new visions rise, 
New scenes and aspects woo and win the soul ; 
Rekindle drooping hope and wake new joy ; 
Till — how one knows not^- all along life's way 
Sweet landscapes smile again and days are glad ; 
Welcome is duty's call, and future years 
Invite to high endeavor, as they spread 
Bright vistas opening far ; and every pulse 
With healthful beating tells the heart is strong. 
Thou that hast suffered, brood not o'er thy woes. 
But to thy tasks ! Thy losses and thy pangs 
Forget in cheerful toil ; thyself forget. 
There be who love thee yet ; whom thou dost love ; 
For God and these still be it thine to live ; 
And, all unwearied, in love's ministries. 
Go labor on and in thy works rejoice. 

Edward and Mary ! for you gather yet 
Around the household board a ruddy band, 
Like cluster roses that upon one stalk 
Hang in their sweet luxuriance ; some in bud. 



\i^ 



\\ ■ % 



70 HOME. 

Some just revealing a first crimson line ; 

Some half unfolded, some in their full bloom ; 

One charming whole, of diverse charms combined. 

'Tis vours o'er infancy kirtd watch to keep ; 

To listen to the words half-formed that fall 

From ruby lips just stammering to pronounce ; 

x\nd childhood's shout and laugh, perchance its cries, 

Since showers and sunshine fill its changeful day. 

'Tis yours to note youth's impulses, that swell 

With passion's rising flood the heaving breast 

That resteth not, but yearns with vague desire; 

That needs kind sympathy and wisest skill, 

To cool the fever of fresh life that throbs 

# 
With pulses too intense, and shape aright 

The forming purpose and aspiring aim. 

To these high tasks returned, your faces wear 

A smile of peace again, and hope's bright glow. 

The missing, not forgot, hath been transformed 

Into a precious jewel of the soul. 

That, in the dear fidelity of love, 

With many a pensive, many a pleasing thought. 

^^ ^ . ^ ^ 



HOME. 71 

Is kept with memory's holiest trusts enshrined. 
Sometimes, perchance, when on the vacant chair, 
Some childish plaything needed now no more. 
Or garment laid aside, the eye may rest, 
A sudden tear, a shaded brow, may tell 
How in the constant heart still lives the lost. 
Yet steadily again life's current glides 
Along the wonted channels, where the banks 
j Wave, as of old, with woods and summer flowers. 
And bees hum softly and the west wind plays, 
And earth and skies once more are robed in light. 

Childhood ! thy bliss who hath not sung that e'er 
The harp to tender melodies hath touched? 
What is thy secret? What thy hidden joys. 
So pure, so full, that left far, far behind. 
In memory still they live ; yea, dearer seem. 
As hoary age through gliding years steals on? 
E'en thy glad morning is not without clouds 
That cast their gloomy shades. Not all unwet 
With tears thy glowing cheeks ; thy heart not free 






* 



^ ^ 

72 HOME, 

From transient disappointments that corrode ; 
From chafing impulse and oft-crossed desire. 
Yet art thou happy as the bounding fawn 
That all day long, beside the lonely lake 
And 'neath the arches of the forest deep, 
Gambols at will, nor knows or want or fear. • 
Thy griefs abide not ; soon the shadows flee 
That cross thy path, and sunbeams gild again 
Whate'er thine eye beholds, till all the world 
For thee in gladness laughs, and sings for joy ! 
As yet thou canst not know the fretting cares, 
The toils and weariness and bodeful fears. 
The buffetings with dark misfortune's tide 
O'erwhelming w^hen too late for all retrieve. 
These w^ait on ripened years. 'Tis meet that thou, 
Dear child, to whom th}^ ignorance is bliss, 
Shouldst drink the cup of innocent delight 
Placed at thy lips, nor on the future draw 
For aught to check thy heart's exulting play. 






HOME. 73 

As in yon garden tastefully inhedged 
And consecrate to beauty, rarest flowers 
Of many a name thick clustering fill the place 
That seems a realm, a kingdom, all their own, 
Blending in rich variety their charms ; 
E'en so, O genial Home — secluded, made 
By Heaven's kind law the nursery of joys 
Only within thy loved enclosure known — 
In thee all healthful pleasures, ever fresh, 
Should spring abundant, and luxuriant grow 
Filling all days and hours, and months and years, 
With influences that wake and warm and cheer ; 
That send exhilaration through the soul. 
And with refreshment bring a calm content. 
Father and mother ! yours the task to plan 
With tireless constancy and thoughtful skill. 
That boy, nor girl, for lack of joy at home. 
Shall from the hearthstone turn and wander far 
To quench at poisoned streams the thirst they feel. 
Brothers and sisters — let each have their sports 
By instinct chosen oft, if choice be given ; 



* 



74 HOME. 

Sports such as best befit each sex and age 

By nature's steady laws and inborn taste ; 

With others that together shared shall best 

Give fresh young hearts delight, and make them bound 

All joyously with sympathetic bliss. 

Nor, O ye parents, let your hearts grow old ; 
As oft your breasts have throbbed with childish glee 
And youthful ardors, yet remembered well ; 
Have felt the restlessness of keen desire 
That seemed a quenchless thirst ; still let them hold 
Kind fellowship with new-born life and joy. 
Be ye with childhood, children — youth, with youth; 
Nor deem that aught of dignity, or grace. 
Is lost by nursery raptures, heard afar 
In echoing laughs and shouts from lisping tongues ; 
Scorn not to tell or hear the thrice-told tales 
Of Fairies, Giants, and all monsters dire. 
And chant quaint melodies, tradition's trust. 
Safe handed down through generations dead ! 
Fail not when merry girlhood courts thy smile 

^ : '■ ^ 



^ 



HOME. 75 

With lips carnationed and her locks of gold, 
To greet the baby house and black-eyed dolls, 
Dressed and undressed and nursed through blissful 

hours. 
Frown not when roisterous boys or toss or strike 
The bounding ball, or leap, or run, or ride 
The mastered steed that, as the rider, loves 
The rushing course ; or when with ringing steel 
The polished ice they sweep in winter's reign. 
All pleasing pastimes, innocent delights, 
That gladden hearts yet simple and sincere, 
Let love parental gather round the Home, 
And consecrate by sharing ; let it watch 
With kind, approving smiles each merry game 
That quickens youthful blood, and, in the joy 
That beams from crimson cheeks and sparkling eyes, 
Its own renew, and live its childhood o'er. 
So shall the scenes where life's fleet-footed years 
Glide by with noiseless speed at last become 
Memory's rich treasure-field, be all o'erspread 
As with a radiant flood of golden sheen ; 



^^ 



1 



7B 



76 HOME. 

Such as, on cloudless days in eastern climes, 
With the still, haz}^ air seems interfused, 
Enrobing with a dreamy loveliness 
All visible things, transfigured in its glow. 
'Tis so that tottering age, with fading e3'e, 
Still sees thee, childhood, glorious as of old, 
And of all earth's delights thine last forgets. 

But childhood's glory fades ; its visions change ; 
For sweet simplicity and guileless trust. 
Come youth's unrest, and thoughts that wider sweep, 
With keener search and washes reaching far ; 
And yearnings vague that crave they know not what ; 
Imaginations of all shapes and hues 
That make earth seem a dreamland, and bright hopes 
That in all o-ororeous tints life's future limn. 
Deep in the breast the sense of powers divine 
Yet slumbering, stirs the eager soul with thirst 
For wisdom's living streams, impels to curb 
The impulses by pleasure's luring call 
Awakened oft, and give to high pursuit 



HOME. 77 

And silent solitude where knowledge dwells, 

Long years whose disciplines may manhood yield. 

Yes, Learning, 'tis of Home that thou art born ! 

Its needs demand thee and its tastes create. 

Thy schools, thy classic halls and tranquil shades, 

Haunted with memories of the nobly great. 

Whose storied deeds and names that cannot die. 

The pride of ages dead, enchantment lend 

That seems like perfume breathed on all the air ; 

Where linger still the echoes ever sweet 

Of lays renowned that Time's great bards have sung ; 

Where yet resound the words of fire pronounced 

By orators who spake when balanced hung 

On the swift moment destinies sublime ; 

Where, in fit gallery and alcove ranged. 

Stand art's grand triumphs, wisdom's treasured lore. 

All wonckrs most divine by genius wrought. 

Of centuries the lesson and the light ; — 

These — these of household culture are the fruit ; 

Culture that early, as wdth heaven's own fire. 

Inflames the generous heart; refines, exalts. 



* 






7^ HOME. 

And with ambition's purest glow inspires 

The youthful soul, not yet by sense enchained.* 

O spectacle divine, where, heart to heart, 
Father and mother, sons and daughters, blend 
Their inborn sympathies in concert blest ! 
One body well compact by love's great law ; 
Each member fit, in its own native grace. 
To fill the measure of the perfect whole. 
Envies and jealousies, ye grow not here 
Indigenous, as hated nettles spring 
'Mid rows of marjory and beds of thyme ; 
Or if ye start — since e en earth's fairest spot 
Yields still some noxious weeds — are quick subdued, 
As all unmeet to" root and flourish thus. 
Oft by attrition in its torrent bed 
The precious gem may wear its roughness down. 
Till from its polished surface back the beam 
That brightl}^ falls is thrown as bright again ; 
So generous souls in daily contact lose 



Appendix, Note C. 

k 



HOME. 

The excrescences of nature and the faults 
That, left unheeded, must ere long become 
Deformities, of God and man abhorred. 

As year on year fulfils its circling round, 
Thou, Edward, no test with a father's pride 
Thy Edith's maiden charms that ripen fast 
Toward fairest womanhood. Oft o'er thy heart 
Steals there a tranquil joy, a deep delight, 
As 'neath thy watchful eye that wearieth not, 
New dignity and grace her form invest ; 
New beauty tints her cheek, new thoughtfulness 
Sits on her brow and lends her beaming eye 
A deeper meaning and a milder fire. 
Thou, Mary, on thy Alfred lov'st to fix 
With tenderness profound thy earnest gaze. 
God-given was he in place of thy first-born, 
That Christ desired and angels bore away ! 
So doubly dear ; and now that in his face 
Thou readest thoughtfulness, and seest revealed 
Reason's calm light, and wakened intellect, 



79 



j.'k 



^ 






80 .HOME. 

Imagination, hope, and purpose high; 

Now that with quickened heart-throbs thou dost mark 

His manly form and mien ; whene'er thou wilt, 

Dost find in him companionship, his arm 

Thy strong support ; his words a daily joy ; 

Thy mother's heart exults, nor would exchange 

Its deep, deep bliss for Ophir's glittering heaps. 

Or widest fame 'mid noisy contests won. 

Thy woman's nature rests with full content 

In these thy household treasures — asks no more. 

How beautiful art thou, O Youth ! Not lost 
As yet in thee the sweetness and the grace 
Of childhood left behind ; but, richer far, 
Thou wearest graces that are all thine own. 
More full the sympathies that warm thy breast ; 
Thy thought more searching ; keener far thy ken — 
The vision of the soul athirst to know 
Where hides true wisdom ; larger thy desires 
Far wandering, like the wanton summer winds 
That rove o'er regions wide and dalliance hold 



2^ 



HOME.. 



:^ 



8i 



With all sweet odors, ever restless still ; 

Loftier thy purpose, more sublime thy thought 

Than childhood ever knew, or e'er could know. 

A youthful band — their souls all closely knit 

In the pure love that of one blood and birth 

By nature's law^ doth ever richly spring, 

As from full fountains, in the cloistered Home, 

A scene present on which e'en Heaven must smile. 

Nor moves the round of household pleasures on 
In dull monotony that needs must cloy. 
Home hath its festal days — its holy times — 
When fresh delights exhilarate ; when Mirth 
Seizes the sceptre and asserts her reign. 
And Laughter, her prime minister, she bids 
Wake rapturous echoes all her realm around ! 
When on affection's altar, with one will. 
The gathered household their fresh offerings lay ; 
Intent that there, like holy altar fire, 
Love's quenchless flame may ever brightly burn. 

6 



^r^ 






* 



82 HOME. . 

Dear old Thanksgiving ! How the hallowed word 
Restores, as in a moment, vanished years ! 
How back to life the honored dead it calls, 
Whose hoary heads and venerable forms 
The bounteous board of old were wont to grace ! 
They seem to come and sit and smile again, 
And with their children's children share the joy. 
How brothers, sisters, all companions dear 
Of life's unclouded morn, together flow 
From regions wide remote, and young again, 
At least in heart, renew the 'scenes of yore I 
This from the crowded city ; that from where 
The Prairie's naked bosom tempts the plough ; 
Perchance another, from beyond the flood 
Where Mississippi pours his torrent down. 
Or from fair Florida, beneath whose skies 
Magnolias spotless open all their charms, 
And orange blossoms scent the tranquil air. 
But come they whenceso'er, they come to prove 
Unlost, unweakened, the old love of Home. 
Joy ! Joy ! Thanksgiving, that o'er all the land, 
To-day a Nation's benison thou art. 

ir. ^ ■ '■ ^ 



HOME. 83 

And thou too, ancient festival, whose name 
A word of joy through centuries hath Hved — 
Christmas ! thou com'st with carols as of old 
When angels chanted 'neath the midnight sky, 
"Glory to God on high, good will to men ! " 
Methinks angelic choirs beyond the stars 
Still warble round Messiah's throne the strain. 
Earth well may lift her voice in jubilant praise 
And all true hearts exulting greet the day 
That tells the world anew the Christ is born ! 
Let holly, box, and fir tree lend their boughs, 
Symbols of life imrriortal, to adorn 
Each Christian temple. Ring, ring out, ye bells, 
Sweet chimes that shall afar glad echoes start ! 
Then while the very air with love and peace 
Seems all surcharged, within thee, happy Home, 
Childhood and youth and hoaiy age may tell. 
With many a gift and many a token kind, 
With chastened merriment and generous cheer, 
How beat in holy unison all hearts. 
O Babe of Bethlehem ! to Thee we owe 



* 



^ 



84 HOME. 

Home's dearest ministries and purest bliss. 
Not less with mortal pleasures innocent, 
Than mortal pains and tears, thy loving heart 
Hath sympathy, for Thou art Goodness' self! 

Next for the household comes the opening year 
With greetings fervent, wishes true and kind, 
From each to each, of countless happy da3's I 
With the old year deep buried all neglects. 
Now friendship's record, as on a fresh page 
Unsullied, the New Year once more begins. 
As with a chastened tenderness, farewell 
Is said to the departed months, whose round. 
On Time's great calendar, has been fulfilled. 
Age, ripe in piety, with faith confirmed, 
All thankfulh^ recalls the past, yet still 
Looks onward to the Father's House on high. 
Well pleased the golden gates more near to see. 
Childhood and youth, exultant, note how fast 
Years bear them forward to the longed-for scenes 
So gorgeous to their thought, of life's broad stage. 



"7^ 



f^ . ^ 

HOME. 85 

On which parts all heroic, as they dream, 
Wait for their entrance, pre-ordained for them ! 
Nowhere, as where abides domestic love, 
So richly " Happy " dawneth the New Year. 

But best and dearest to the household comes 
The day of holy rest ; God's sabbath day ; 
From the world's early morning consecrate 
To piety and peace, to prayer and praise. 
And all the sanctities of worship paid ; 
To pleasures such as days of toil know not ; 
To love, the grace that the whole law fulfils — 
Mother of virtues — of all thoughts and deeds 
That to the pure in heart divinest seem, 
And e'en to earth some semblance lend to heaven. 
With the fresh morn, while grateful stillness reigns — 
Stopped the great treadmill of the world awhile — 
Parents and children meet with greetings kind 
Around the wonted altar. The calm hour 
No haste demands ; and first to heaven ascends 
In one sweet harmony, from joyful lips, 



:^^ 



* 



86 HOME, 

The Hymn that to the ear of Love divine 
Tells of each heart's deep, fervent thankfulness, 
More welcome than frankincense. Then the sire, 
Priest of the family by God ordained, 
From prophet old, or Psalmist, words of life 
Reads reverently, as if afresh they came 
From God's own lips to gladden trusting hearts ; 
Or lessons from His mouth who, Light of men, 
Spake as no mortal tongue e'er spake besides ; 
Or from the story of his mighty deeds, 
His lowliness, and grace that reached to all. 
His shameful cross and wondrous sacrifice ! 
Then at the mercy-seat together bowed. 
One tender voice, the worship of all hearts 
Pours forth in utterance simple and sincere : 
Forgiveness asks for common faults confessed, 
x\nd praise heartfelt, for blessings shared, presents 
To Him without whom not a sparrow falls ; 
Life, health and comfort, all most dear, commit. 
For coming days, to his o'er-watching care ; 
And 'neath the shadow of his wings to dwell 



^ -^ — ^« 

HOME. 87 

Entreats, one brief request including all. 
So pass the peaceful hours. From morn till eve 
Pleasures succeeding pleasures fill the day. 
When the glad bells up to God's temple call, 
With one consent the household join the throng 
That tread the hallowed aisles, their hearts the while 
Drawn to each other closer, while they rise 
Godward in prayer and song, and hear the word 
That life eternal tells. Then home returned, 
With books and cheerful talk and songs that stir 
All pure affections, the loved day they close. 
Of sabbaths such as this the memories kept 
Among the heart's best riches, shall remain 
Till earth's last week shall end and brightl}^ dawns 
The endless sabbath, the sweet rest of heaven. 

A time for all things — thus the wise man spake, 
And — beautiful in its own time is each. 
Not always, Edward, round thy bounteous board 
Will greet thee youthful faces wreathed in smiles ; 
Not always, Mary, will thy quick ear hear 









J:^ 



88 HOME. 

Mother ! — earth's dearest word — from morn till eve 

Fall lovingly from many a coral lip. 

Ye have been sowing long. With line on line, 

Lessons of wisdom and of heavenly trutn, 

No season lost, it hath been yours to pour 

Into fresh opening souls, that to receive 

What from your lips distilled were ever fain. 

Have ye not sought to form for virtue's tasks, 

To shape to some true life-work, these the sons 

And daughters given from God, your highest trust? 

Draws nigh the reaping time. What most your hearts 

For many a year have wished, your eyes shall see — 

Your children, girded for life's contests high, 

By Providence led forth. For this ye prayed. 

Arrows not always in the quiver rest ; 

Fledged birds, not in the nest for ever stay ; 

Arrow, or bird, each at its hour must fly. 

Onward — still onward — is the call divine 

That all of mortal birth must hear and heed. 

'Tis so that pleasures ever new are born 

Out of new issues and oft-shifting scenes ; 



* 



HOME.. 89 

E'en things that most delight, unchanged should sate 
From sheer monotony. Thy pleasures, Home, 
Can only live through never-ceasing flow ; 
As brooks that hasten leaping, babbling on, 
x\re pure as crystal ever; but pent up. 
Forbid their course to run, do stagnate soon. 
And with green ooze breed noisomeness and death. 
Ay, parents, send them forth, as God shall call — 
Your best and dearest — not with fainting heart 
And tears regretful, at what Home must lose; 
But thankfully, since unto you 'tis given 
To God and man offerings so rich to bring. 

The gentle Edith ripe in maiden charms 
Yet more and more the magic power reveals 
Of cultured womanhood. Not wholly lost 
The witching artlessness of childish years, 
The airy freedom, the instinctive grace. 
So winsome, till by fashion's hateful code 
To chilling stiffness changed. Radiant she moves 
Amid Home's cheerful band, in beauty's light, 

)^ ^ , ^ 



90 HOME. 

. As floats a planet in the evening sky, 
Bright and still brightening as it higher climbs. 
No bird of Paradise of plumage gay, 
In thought or wish she seems ; no trifler weak, 
With vain conceit inflate, self-conscious, quick 
With fluttering pulse to note each watchful glance 
Of kindling admiration. Such as these. 
Ye who would find may seek in fashion's halls, 
Where dwell not Home's simplicity and truth. 
Yet on her brow she wears, all clearly writ, 
Intelligence ; and in her beaming eyes, 
The joyousness that tells a guileless breast 
And yet unsounded depths of hidden love. 
Parental hearts grow warm at sight of her. 
And brothers look and worship. ' Oh, there's naught 
Can touch so tenderly the restive soul. 
Of youthful impulses o'erflowing full. 
And urged by uncurbed will and passion's power 
The tempter's voice to heed and choose the .wrong. 
As a fond sister's love, that wooes and wins, 
Attempers what is wayward unto good. 



* 



i 



HOME. 91 

And by its own pure effluence maketh pure. 
Thou, Edith, art e'en as the warm south wind, 
That, from the Hps of Spring breathed o'er the fields, 
Whate'er is loveHest waketh into Hfe 
With silent Power, till all are robed in bloom. 
While Home thou blessest, thou thyself art blest. 

Goodness, to beauty joined, is like the flame 
That from the light-house on some towering clift^ 
O'er the wild waters throws its beams afar 
At nightfall, welcome to the wanderer's eye. 
Its glory streams abroad, nor can be hid ; 
But many an eye beholds it and admires. 
Ah ! maiden, thou that in thy freshness wear'st 
With modesty and gentleness and grace 
The charms that nature gave and goodness lends, 
With power these charms invest thee — power per- 
chance 
Beyond thy utmost thought — to scatter wide 
Influence that light and guidance both shall be 
To many a heart sincere, that so inspired 



^— ^ * 



92 HOME. 

Shall be by thee to nobler virtue won. 
The power to bless by charming — wondrous gift ! 
How rich who hath it ! How made like to God ! 
Woman, this most exalts thee and adorns ; 
Gives thee a sovereign sway, if so thou wilt, 
And makes thee as a spirit of ihe skies. 

To all, such Edith seemed. But most to one, 
Young Arthur, from her childhood playmate, friend, 
Sharer of frolic hours, and o'er the fields 
And thro' the shadowy woods, when summer glowed, 
Leader of many a ramble. Always kind. 
Homeward from school her satchel oft he bore, 
And through the winter snow her pathway trod ; 
Or cross the swollen brook, with friendly hand. 
By the rude stepping-stones, he safely led. 
With changing years advanced to manhood now, 
Transformed he seems, yet not another made. 
In manners courteous, almost distant grown. 
Yet is he near her oft, with calm content 
On his fair face clear written, and an eye 



^ 



HOME. 93 



That back reflects her glance, as she for him 
And he for her some secret fain would guard ; 
As if by some keen instinct each did read 
I The other's thought, to words not trusted yet — 
Not uttered in full phrase — yet half expressed 
Perchance not seldom, by some act or look, 
Some pressure of the hand, some opening bud 
Given to adorn the hair and meekly worn ; 
Some book together read, or some soft strain 
In the still twilight by two voices sung ! 

There is a time to love ! — a holy time 
When from deep well-springs in the throbbing breast 
Gush forth affection's purest, richest streams. 
And flow unchecked, bearing through all the soul 
Mysterious happiness ; when fleet-winged thought, 
As finished occupation sets it free, 
To the loved being flies and lingers long — 
As the wild bee, tasted the nectared cup. 
Delays, and yet delays, its homeward flight — 
Or, all impatient, in the busy hour. 



^t- ^ 



^ -•- ^ 

94 HOME, 

Full oft it plays the truant and escapes ; 

Forgets all time and distance and afar 

Seeks the secluded walk, or well-known bower. 

O blissful season when the unfolding soul 

Puts forth all sweet affections ! w^hen bright shapes 

And visions, of imagination born. 

And yearnings vague, and hopes, and wishes, blend 

With a deep restlessness, that is not pain, 

But rather seems a rapture ; and all things. 

The heavens, the earth, life's many shaded scene, 

Past, present, future — future most — appear 

Glorious, enchanting, in love's aureate light. 

So in some grand cathedral, when the sun, 

Through the stained windows, his full lustre flings 

On priest and altar and the reverent throng 

Of worshippers that crowed the solemn aisles, 

'Tis as a new Shekinah filled the place. 

And heaven's own splendors threw^ o'er all the scene. 

She is betrothed ! The changeless word is said ! 
Two souls are each to each for ever bound ! 



^ 

-!?\ 



^ 



HOME. 95 

Is freedom then abjured — for bonds exchanged? 

Arthur and Edith, each once free as air, 

In thought, word, feeling, purpose, aim, and end — 

Sold each a royal birthright when the}^ sware* 

Henceforth to have one name, one life, one lot? 

Or hideth seeming loss some priceless gain? 

By somewhat yielded is it Heaven's great law 

That the young heart, with conscious need disturbed. 

Must find its fulness, what it restless craved? 

Bound ! Bound ! Ah ! thou that doubting askest — 

know 
That unto thee love's mystery as yet 
Is all unopened ; thou art but a child ! 
Thou hast not learned how, in the blissful sphere 
Where love triumphant reigns, a soul gains most 
When most it loses ; that when giving all 
It takes all and is blest. Two hearts made one 
In mystic unity of trustful love. 
Constraint know not, nor liberty e'er lack ; 
With full consenting wills as one they choose ; 
Or differing aught, for this alone contend. 






^ 



1<^ 

96 HOME. 

How each to other first and most may yield ! 

No bonds like thine do bind, O heaven-born love, 

Yet as the angels free are loving souls ! 

Edith and Arthur, be the vernal days 
Of your betrothal arched w^ith azure skies 
And glad with melodies of warbling birds ! 
Enchanting be the twilights, and the sheen 
Of silvery moonlight on your evening paths ! 
Taste the dear joys of early love, and wait 
In ecstasy delicious for the hour 
When at the bridal altar blest ve stand. 



^ , i^ 



Oh, hush the song, and let her tears 

Flow to the dream of her early years ! 

Holy and pure are the drops that fall. 

When the young bride goes from her fathers hall ; 

She goes unto love yet untried and new — 

She parts from love that hath still been true. 

Mrs. Henians. 

How happy he who crowns, in shades like these, 
A youth of labor with an age of ease ! 
Onward he moves to meet his latter end. 
Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay. 
While resignation gently slopes the way ; 
And, all his prospects brightening to the last. 
His heaven commences ere the world be past, 

Golds7nith. 



* 



yf 



PART IV. 

^ I ^HE bridal came. The holy vows were said. 

As on some April morn the changeful sky 
Lets fall, e'en through the sunshine, fitful showers, 
As each contending which the hour should rule ; 
So on that day alternate smiles and tears 
On each face came and went. O Edward, thou 
Thy struggling heart in vain dost strive to still ; 
Nor canst thou, Mary, when the sudden flood 
Of gushing tenderness o'erflows thy breast, 
Repress its heaving, or the quivering lip 
At once compose, or dry the moistened cheek. 
To-day a priceless jewel ye resign, 
That has adorned your casket, flashed for you ! 
A heart that made sweet music in its beat 
Of harmony with yours ; an eye whose glance. 
To you, like light from heaven, bore only joy ! 



-.- . — Jck 



lOO HOME. 

Brothers and sisters, from your blissful bower 
The full-blown rose ye loved is borne away, 
Elsewhere to shed its fragrance. Yet grieve not, 
As those who miss some treasure gone for aye. 
Love chooseth ever what the loved shall bless, 
And e'en in sacrifice finds sacred peace. 
Edith but goeth, at the will of Heaven, 
To kindle for herself a household flame 
Whose light afar shall shine. Herself on all 
Who in her bliss are blest, not less henceforth, 
With Arthur at her side, shall gladness shed, 
And to the Home she leaves shall not be lost. 

As some prolific tree whose boughs with fruit 
Bend earthward, yet through months of glowing suns 
Keeps all its treasure till the harvest hour 
Hath come at last; and, ripening once begun. 
The process hastens till there naught remains 
Save a bare gleaning on the plundered boughs 
That look all lonely ; so the Home where long 
Young hearts have lingered, clinging each to each 



J- 



* 



t 



HOME. lOI 

And to the hearthstone where they first drew breath, 
Must see them parted at the appointed bound. 
When comes the day of ripeness and the spell 
That held them one is broken, soon — ^ ah ! soon 
The bands seem loosened all, and one by one, 
Mature for life's high calling, goeth forth 
With many a backward look and secret pang ; 
Till where but now there stirred a cheerful throng 
Reigns the hushed quietness of emptied halls ! 
'Tis so, O Time, that thy resistless hand 
With scene on scene the mortal drama fills.* 

Alfred and brothers twain too soon are missed 
When meet the household band. One burning heart 
Hath kindled into generous passionate love 
At Learning's shrine, by names illustrious fired 
That, shining as bright orbs through ages gone, 
Lit up the darkness, and for coming time 
Together blended form a milky way 
Glorious as that which spans night's ebon vault. 

* Appendix, Note D. 



V / 



^^^ ' ^ 



^ 



1 02 HOME. 

In cloistered halls he hides for toilsome years, 
Youth's passion curbs, its restlessness subdues, 
And e'en as if to Learning's self betrothed, 
Life's busy throng forsakes with her to dwell. 
Another to the marts of hurrying trade 
His steps hath turned ; eager to tread where sweep, 
Now this way and now that, the surging tide 
Of rivalries that chafe and ventures high ; 
Where men for gain in life-long wrestlings strive, 
Now win, now lose, and oft, ere manhood's prime. 
Its sturdy strength w^ear out and die too soon. 
Thrice happy they whose hearts die not, nor lose 
All sweet humanities, though years be long 
And crowned with rich successes all unstained ! 
Turns fondly to his mother earth a third, 
By some deep impulse urged ; and far away 
Toward sunset regions he hath wandered forth 
To fix his dwelling where beyond the flood 
Broad Iowa her billowy bosom spreads. 
There, 'neath his hand, the virgin soil shall soon 
Grow genial, opened to the mellowing sun ; 









HOME. 103 

Quicken the scattered seed, and in its time 
Reward the sower with the reaper's joy. 
Around the new-made Home his tasteful hand 
New beauties shall create. Well pleased his ear 
Shall note the voices, echoing far, of flocks 
And herds that 'mid abundance graze content ; 
Nor need he envy here the city's din 
As glide, in healthful toil, the peaceful years. 

Ah ! Time, at once giver and robber thou ! 
Ere life hath reached its noon, each year beholds 
Some gift possessed made richer, or some grace, 
Some power, or pleasure, all anew bestowed. 
But high noon passed, each year shall filch away 
Somewhat of beauty's charm, of manhood's strength, 
Of lustre from the eye, and from the ear 
Of quickness to perceive the subtile thrill. 
Thou stealest from the agile limb and step, 
Elastic beyond art, the lithesome spring ; 
From golden locks, or raven, their bright hues 
Thou plunderest silently, till all are gone ; 



>fr — ^ 



I04 HOME. 

And keen desire and love of high pursuit 
And buoyancy of hope and courage firm 
And aspiration restless evermore — 
Whatever life's great tasks made seem but play — 
So stealthily thou takest, that the robbed 
Scarce note their loss, or noting half believe. 
Yes, Edward, thou and Mary, yet thine own. 
Still dear, far dearer, than when thy young heart 
Felt love's first pulses beat, are not the same 
In thought, wish, purpose, taste, or mien and air, 
As when around you glowed the bridal morn. 
The brows then fresh and fair, with deeper lines 
Are furrowed by that skilled engraver Time ; 
Then life lay all before you, like some scene 
Of rarest beauty to the eye made clear 
And magnified by telescopic glass ; 
Now, through the glass inverted, ye behold 
Reduced to littleness what once seemed great, 
And dimmed, by half, the glory that did charm. 
Grown calmer and more wise, ye, well content, 
Resign your old ambitions, pleased to dwell 



* 



^ ■ ^ 

HOME. 105 

Amid Home's peacefulness, and with such tasks 

As here the tranquil days may best beguile, 

To wait till evening shadows gently fall. 

Home hath not lost its sweetness — its content, 

Though missed the cheerful voices, heard of old 

Echoing through hall and chamber ; though the night 

Descend in solemn silence, where so oft 

At close of day, for many a year, did float 

On the still air enchanting harmonies. 

No lonely hearts here dwell, that do but live 

In sad, submissive patience, and earth's joys 

For them all vanished deem, to come no more. 

No — no ! Not such the transformation wrought 
By Time and Change, though wondraus be their power. 
While creepeth stilly on life's closing scene. 
And with the hoary head and trembling hand 
Come signs of weariness, and for itself 
Toil seems no more a pleasure ; yet 'tis left 
On the fled past to muse ; and still to find 
Companionship in books, or friends, around 

it— ■■ 



M ^ 

Io6 HOME. 

The evening table where the loved were wont 

Nightly to gather ; or at will to 'sit 

Beneath the old familiar trees that hang 

O'erarching by the door, as long ago, 

And seem of all things least to have changed with 

years. 
Ay more — 'tis given to greet the oft return 
Of children who, to filial duty true 
And childhood's fresh remembrances, come back 
To tread again the haunts for ever dear ; 
To hear grand-children's prattle and to watch 
Their childish raptures as on grandsire's knee 
They drink in, all attent, the well-told tale. 
These are the tranquil pleasures left to age 
When towards the sunset verges life's long day. 
With these, deep in the trustful, loving soul 
That 'mid life's turmoil walked by faith with God, 
And, far above earth's ever shifting sands, 
Builded on solid rock immortal hopes ; 
There come, as night draws nearer, glimpses oft, 
x\nd blest anticipations, of the realm 

^f '. M 



'^Z- 



HOME. 107 

For ever fair, beyond the rolling spheres, 
Where years no more shall ravish youth away, 
Nor love be parted from its loved again. 

Edward, thy Mary's voice for thee has lost 
Naught of its sweetness ; it delights thee still. 
Like old familiar music. On that brow, 
Mary, that in its manliness did charm 
Thy girlhood's eye, not less thou lovest still 
To gaze, though o'er it age hath spread his snows. 
Ah ! richer now, in either breast, the flow 
Of love's pure current, than when ye did sptak 
With trembling ecstasy the marriage vow 
Before God's altar. Then that current welled 
From confidence and hope ; from knowledge now, 
And mutual virtues tested, till, like gold 
Fresh from the crucible and proved by fires, 
They shine with lustre that no doubt can dim ; 
Blest in each other, ye are doubly blest. 



ifei 



* 



^ 



1 08 HOME. 

Nor are ye lonely left. One daughter still, 
Fair Ella, youngest of the household band, 
Like some bright minister of heavenly love. 
Each morning greets you, fresh herself as morn, 
And watches, all the day, if she may read, 
In look, or motion, even your rising wish ! 
Or with some sweet surprise may light a smile 
On your calm reverend brows, perchance provoke 
To merry laughter, never hard the task. 
A kind good-night she says when silent hours 
Call you to tranquil sleep. Good-morrow sweet 
She bids you with each dawn. For you she lives ; 
Herself forgets ; forgets the brilliant halls 
Where Fashion holds her court, ever best pleased 
With acts of filial duty done^she seems. 
Nor till her eyes shall see you pass the gates 
Of life eternal, shall aught else divide 
Her constant heart, whose every beating pulse 
Tells that for you her very life-blood flows ! 
O faithful love ! that, self-devoted, deems 



T<V: 



^ 



HOME. 109 

All toil and care for you a mighty debt, 
And to the utmost, the full score would pay ! 

Yes, woman ! Though oft-times to thee 'tis given 
Thy heart-kept hopes, at duty's call, to yield 
All cheerfully ; for God and those that else 
Were left forlorn and loveless, thine to make 
The lot of those who nobly much resign ; 
Though thy life's course be like a modest stream 
That through the vale in grateful coolness winds, 
And hidden half, with tree and bush o'erhung. 
Freshness exhales e'en when itself unseen ; 
Though Providence, or thine own choice, deny 
The household throne and dear connubial bliss, 
Yet beautiful and blest thy life may be ; 
Rich in self-culture, and each grace and charm 
Of mind, or manners, lovehest in all eyes ; 
And filled with deeds that the recording pen 
Shall chronicle in heaven. The world yet teems 
With griefs and groans; with pierced and bleeding 
hearts, 

V ■ ^ 



^ i^ 

no HOME. 

To stanch whose wounds there needs the hand of love ; 

With sin, and souls debased, and dark despair ; 

With ignorance perverse and error blind ; 

With mercy's tasks untold, that well befit 

Thy delicate fingers and thy facile skill ; 

On thee it calls, and wide before thee spreads 

Such fields w4iere love's best triumphs may be won, 

As make it grand to live and toil and bear. 

If thou wilt be a trifler, deep the shame ! 

If frivolous and vain, with all the gifts 

Of God conferred to make thee seem divine, 

Demons must clap their hands in fiendish glee, 

And pitying Goodness turn in tears away ! 

Be a true woman, whatsoe'er thy place. 

In solitude, or crowd, or youth, or age, 

And life shall be to thee no joyless waste, 

But rich in pleasures that sate not the soul. 

Thyself revere ; nor suffer without need 

Thy robes to draggle in the common dust ! 

Be as God would — in thine own sphere a sun, 

And round thee glorious planets shall revolve, 



-7^ 



HOME. 1 1 1 

(91ow in thy light, and life and comfort find. 
So shalt thou bless thy kind, and all shall gaze 
Admiring, and like Parsees worship thee ! 

As in late autumn, when the frosty earth 
With withered leaves is strown, the forests bare, 
And many a signal tells drear winter nigh, 
Comes Indian Summer with her gentle reign 
And charms which, tempered by the golden haze, 
Half veil and half transfigure Nature's face 
That with pale, pensive beauty still delights. 
As peacefully go by the tranquil days ; 
So while age ripens, and when whitened locks 
And the dimmed eye and faltering step forewarn 
That not now distant lies the vale of shades 
Earth's darkness parting from eternal day. 
Full oft there comes a season all serene. 
Whose sunshine mellowed falls, whose airs are mild 
As softest breath of May, whose tempests sleep. 
Whose peace is like the Sabbath stillness, when 
A hushed world waits and worships. 'Tis as if 



j.'^ 



J.i^ 

112 HOME. 

O'er the calm spirit silently there steals 

Some effluence celestial, that inbreathed, 

As from the throne of God, a baptism seems 

Of love divine, before the mortal strife. 

The waiting soul from ties of earth to free, 

And heavenward lure her towards her coming bliss. 

'Tis in this hallowed time that Edward now 
And Mary, side by side, like ripened sheaves 
With yellow grain rich laden, bide the hour 
When the great Husbandman with faithful care 
Shall bring them to his garner. Ella's hand, 
With love's instinctive gentleness, delights 
To bear for them each burden, and each day 
Some pleasure new to bring. The furrowed brow, 
Soothed by her touch, seems ever half to lose 
Its look of weariness ; and at her voice. 
Whose tones are cheering as the morning lark's, 
The languid eye grows brighter ; and the ear 
Tires not that listens to her pleasing talk. 
Or readings, that beguile the loitering hours ; 

a -^-* 



^ 



HOME. 113 

The genius of the place, she lives and moves 
Like some kind ministering spirit of the skies, 
Sent forth the aged pilgrims Home to lead. 

But mortal years must end. Mary, thy cheek 
So touched with crimson once, now paleness wears ; 
Falter thy footsteps on the lengthened path 
. Where thou of old didst tread like the orazelle 
That scaleth with fleet limb the mountain side ; 
Faintness invades thy heart, so wont to beat 
With ardor healthful and with purpose brave. 
Beside thee bends thy Edward's reverend head ; 
Grieved not for thee, so soon to see His face 
Whose beauty to behold ye both have pined ; 
But for himself, that he may not as yet 
Enter within the veil, but without thee. 
Still in the outer court must linp-er lone. 
Thy children too, Edith and Arthur soon. 
Then those who dwell afar, in hurried haste. 
With Ella, gather in the chamber hushed. 
And watch the failing pulses. O dread hour, 



feie 



— ^ ^ 

114 HOME. 

When hearts long loving and in love made one 

Are each from other rudely rent away ! 

Yet Faith can triumph here, and calmly say — 

" Thy will be done ! " can hear the symphonies 

Soft floating on the air, from unseen harps, 

That w^elcome to the invisible host of God 

Another sister spirit, pure and free ! 

She is translated — and with Christ abides ! 

Edward, not long shall Earth detain thee now ! 
Her lights grow dim, and like a vision fade 
Her transient glories ; heavenward look thine eyes. 
Thou wouldst not linger, and the hour is nigh 
When thou shalt hear kind voices bid thee — come ! 
And see, beyond the flood, thy Mary stand 
With arms outstretched to beckon thee away ! 
Then, Ella, thy dear, loving hand shall close 
Thy father's dying eyes ; that placid brow 
With thy last filial tears thou shalt bedew, 
Thy fiHal tasks all done. Then farewell Home ! 
Thy Home from infancy, through long, long years, 






* 



HOME. 115 

Whose histories upon thy soul are writ, 

As if, with iron pen and diamond point, 

Graved on the eternal rock. Go, thou true heart, 

Well trained by duty for all holiest deeds ! 

Go forth where sin lays waste and sorrows spring, 

And round thee scatter gladness, light, and joy ! 

In thee let it be seen that woman, true 

To love's best impulses, must needs command 

All honor from the world, by all revered. 

So shall thy name enshrined in grateful hearts 

Be as a jewel kept ; and thou at length 

Shalt hear the Ever-blessed say — Well done ! 

And pass the threshold of thy Father's House, 

The Home of Homes where changeless love abides ! 

O haste the happy day when o'er the world — 
The wide, wide world — bright altar fires shall burn 
On household shrines all countless as the sands ! 
When homeless thousands shall no more be found 
Far scattered without shepherd, wandering sheep 
Unpitied, left of savage beasts the prey I 



^ 



Il6 HOME. 

Ye who with ruthless hand would madly tear 

From the chaste maiden's brow the marriage wreath, 

The sanctities destroy that God ordained 

To guard domestic joys ; the springs would taint 

Of pure affection and foul lust unchain 

To work its will till Homes are known no more : 

Could the base wish succeed, the race undone, 

And conscious of its wrong, on you would pour 

Its curses without measure — well deserved ! 

Religion's ministers ! lift up the voice 

On your high watch-towers, and assert His law 

Who to unbind what God hath joined forbade. 

Statesmen ! loose not with sacrilegious hand 

The holy tie without which perish Homes. 

Know that when Homes shall perish states shall fall, 

And earth, e'en as the nether world, be hell ! 

The citadel of hope for earth is Home ; 

Home the best type that earth affords of Heaven. 

Yes ! though like all beneath these changing skies. 
The joys of Home abide not ; though itself 



■?^v 



■^ 



HOME 117 

By its own law dissolve, when circling years 
Have finished, one by one, its shifting scenes, 
And sundered far the hearts once closely knit ; 
All ends not here. Hath not the Master said 
That in his Father's House, for loving souls 
Arc many mansions, whither safely led. 
And made one family, they shall with Him 
Their Elder Brother dwell, for ever one? 
There the great anti-typal palace waits. 
Thronged with the sons and daughters of our God 
Made like unto the angels ; and the feet 
Of all the pure in heart shall thither come. 

O mortal ! whatsoe'er thy lot hath been. 
If, half bewildered, thou hast seemed to stray 
A homeless wanderer o'er a barren waste. 
If one that much hath loved and much hath lost, 
Or one that loveth much, and much doth fear 
What most he loves to lose ; let thy stilled soul 
Repose itself in peace. Though on thy head 
Fierce tempests frequent beat, and all too oft 



■% 



Il8 HOME. 

Clouds, dark o'ershadowing, veil the cheerful skies, 
And gloom brood o'er thy path ; though round thy 

steps 
Perils thick-clustering wait ; though cares oppress, 
And each day hath its strifes, and Sorrow pours 
From her exhaustless flagon for thy lips 
Full cups of bitterness ; though life's best joys 
Seem half to lose their sweetness, and no more 
Enkindle keen desire, nor yield delight 
To the tired sense, worn with the round of years ; 
Still be thou calm ! Be strong and falter not ! 
Teach thy chafed spirit, that, in weariness. 
Pants for her rest and longs for wings to soar 
To kinder skies beyond this land of storms. 
Her resdess thoughts to stay ; and in the strength 
Of Hope, that, like the needle, trembling oft. 
Is steadfast still, to wait the coming hour 
When she well pleased the mystery shall read 
Of earth's stern disciplines. Then on thine eyes, 
Beaming with life immortal, full shall break 
The wonders hidden long. Then Love Divine 






HOME. 119 

Wide open the effulgent gates shall fling, 

And bid thee enter ; there, beside the throne 

Where sits the Lamb, shall show thee the bright Home, 

For Him and his for ever dear redeemed 

Builded of God ere yet the worlds were made. 

Lift, lift thy glance, O mortal, troubled, sad, 

And lose thy griefs and fears in thoughts of Heaven ! 

There wait thee solid joys. What most thy heart 
Hath yearned to find, yet ever sought in vain 
Through perished hopes and crosses ever new — 
Sweet rest, with full content — thou there shalt know. 
Thy cup of blessing filled, thou shalt behold 
Divinest splendors, all things bright and fair ; 
With which compared, earth's purest loveliness 
Remembered shall all unsubstantial seem, 
A shadow and a type. Thy treasures lost, 
By stern Death wrested from thy warm embrace, 
Now clothed in spiritual beauty and complete 
In all celestial graces, still thine own, 
There thou again shalt find. Theirs the old love, 

* * 



f 



1 20 HOME. 

Changed only as made richer in its flow 

And deeper far ; as if, checked for a time 

By separation, it the while had swelled. 

Till ready, like a flood, to force its way. 

These shall such greeting give thee as shall thrill 

Thy raptured spirit, ne'er again to know 

Unquenched affection's thirst ; while high above 

Thou seest writ in words of flashing light : 

" No pang, no death, no partings, evermore I " 

Heaven ! 'Tis no misty dream. What mortal eye 
Unlifted yet the veil — hath never seen, 
Nor can, with keenest glance ; what mortal ear, 
Though listening all attent, hath never heard, 
Even in faint echoes, God himself hath shown 
To loving hearts and true. By visions clear 
And words celestial, whispered soft and sweet 
In the rapt spirit's depths, revealed have been 
Mysteries of life and beauty, love and joy, 
That from of old await the sons of God, 
Their heritage, reserved till their glad feet 



I 






. ^ 

HOME. 121 

Shall pass thy gates, Jerusalem the New ! 

In Thee, O Holy City, crowned with grace, 

Builded of gems imperishable, with walls 

Of adamant that sin and woq debar, 

O'erarched by skies serene without a sun, 

x\nd watered with pure, living streams, that flow 

For ever from beneath the Mount of God — 

In Thee, fulfilled, and more, each promise stands. 

Nor this alone. For lo ! the Lamb himself 
From the eternal throne — where " in the midst 
As one that hath been slain " He yet appears. 
Wielding all princely power o'er earth and Heaven, 
With " many crowns " on that once bleeding Head — 
Full oft descends, with gentlest mien, to walk 
All lovingly, a Bridegroom with his Bride, 
Rejoicing o'er her in her bridal robes, 
White as the liorht and lustrous as the sun.* 
In dear companionship amid the throng 
By his own pangs redeemed, now tenderly 

* Appendix, note E. 

-^ 



^ ^ :^^ 

T 

122 HOME. 

He talks of Golgotha, the tomb, the morn 
When the rent sepulchre resigned its trust, 
And He triumphant, first-born from the dead. 
Death's sceptre broken, trod the earth again ; 
When his own saw Him, heard Him, and believed 
That He, whom on the tree they saw expire 
In agony and shame, was Lord of All ! 

Ah ! how their blessed spirits now respond 
In rapturous praise, and thanks, and burning love — 
Love that not blindly burns, like theirs of old 
Who to Emmaus walked — while heavenly words 
Fall like soft music from those lips divine ! 
His glory they behold, that glory share. 
Even as on earth he said. All human grace 
With the full Godhead's dignity combined. 
And lowly gentleness, enrobed He seems 
With beauty infinite ! They, all intent. 
And ravished, gazing on his unveiled face — 
O vision loner desired — themselves transformed 
And in his likeness made, exultant see : 






.¥- 



HOME. 123 

To know as they are known supremely blest. 
He feeds them — He whom seraphim adore ! 
He leads them where eternal fountains rise, 
That they may thirst no more ; and from the eyes 
That wept on earth so oft, his loving hand 
All tears hath wiped for evermore away. 



^^— — ■ — ^ ^ 






APPENDIX. 



NOTE A. 



lyrOTHING could well be more uncandid than the representa- 
tions of a certain class of writers in their attempts to dis- 
parage the Fathers of New England. It is not wonderful that 
some errors of past ages and of their own age were still revealed 
in them. It is not strange that having left their native land and 
endured all sacrifices for the sake of enjoying their own opinions 
unmolested, they should have been sensitive to the intrusion of 
new elements of strife. That they misjudged and acted wrongly 
in some particulars is readily to be admitted. But that even their 
faults " leaned to virtue's side '' only ill-nature and prejudice 
can deny. 

" It was in self-defence," says the historian Bancroft, (History 
United States, p. 463) "that Puritanism in America began those 
transient persecutions of which the excesses shall find in me no 
apologist ; and which yet were no more than a train of mists hover- 
ing, of an autumn morning, over a fine river, that diffused freshness 
and vitahty wherever it wound. The people did not attempt to con- 
vert others, but to protect themselves. T/iey never punished opin- 
ion as suck; they never attempted to punish or terrify men into 
orthodoxy. The history of religious persecution in New England 



^JL. 



* 



^ 



71^ 



128 APPENDIX. 

is simply this : The Puritans estabh'shed a government in America 
such as natural justice warranted, and such as the statutes and com- 
mon law of England did not warrant ; and that was done by men 
who still acknowledged the duty of a limited allegiance to the parent 
state. The Episcopalians had declared themselves the enemies of 
the party, and waged against it a war of extermination. Puritanism 
excluded them from its asylum. Roger Williams, the apostle of 
"soul liberty," weakened the cause of civil independence by im- 
pairing its unity ; and he was expelled, even though Massachusetts 
always bore good testimony to his spotless virtues. Wheelwright 
and his friends, in their zeal for strict Calvinism, forgot their duty 
as citizens, and they also were exiled. The Anabaptist, who could 
not be relied upon as an ally, was guarded as a foe. The Quakers 
denounced the worship of New England as an abomination and its 
government as treason, and therefore they were excluded on pain 
of death," 

Elsewhere (Vol. I. p. 454) Mr. Bancroft writes, — " Some of the 
Quakers were extravagant and foolish. They cried out from the 
windows at the magistrates and ministers that passed by, and 
mocked the civil and religious institutions of the country. They 
riotously interrupted piiblic worship ; and women, forgetting the 
decorum of their sex and claiming a divine origin for their absurd 
caprices, smeared their faces and even went naked through the 
streets.'''' It was for these gross violations of public order and 
decency and the rights of other people, and not for their religious 
opinions, that they suifered. 

The historian further says : " The effects of Puritanism dis- 
play its true character still more distinctly. . , . Puritanism wa? a 
life-giving spirit ; activity, thrift, intelligence followed in its train ; 
and as for courage, a coward and a Puritan never went together.' 
Again, the same pen writes, — "Of all contemporary sects the 

.-.^ \ ^ 



APPENDIX, 129 

Puritans were the most free from credulity. ... So many super- 
stitions had been bundled up with every venerable institution of 
Europe, that ages have not dislodged them all. The Puritans 
at once emancipated themselves from a crowd of observances. 
Hardly a nation of Europe has as yet made its criminal law so 
humane as that of early New England. A crowd of offences was 
at one sweep brushed from the catalogue of capital crimes.'" So 
other standard historians. 

It is a sin alike against the memory of the greatly good and 
against truth and Christian charity, to attempt to hide beneath a 
few mistakes the most exalted virtues. 



NOTE B. 

The Anglo-Saxon race have everywhere exhibited strong social 
affections, and among them have been found, to a greater extent 
than among those of any other race, examples of well-ordered, 
intelligent, and virtuous homes. But even in England the number 
of such homes in proportion to the entire population is small. 
They are not relatively numerous beyond the circle of the aris- 
tocracy of rank and wealth. But among the Anglo-Saxon popula- 
tion of our older States the proportion of such homes is large. 
You can hardly go into any respectable looking farm-house in 
Massachusetts or Connecticut without finding on the parlor table, 
along with the Bible, the v/orks of Shakespeare, Milton, Addison, 
Johnson, Cowper, Wordsworth, and other eminent writers, and 
seeing many other indications of a degree of intellectual and social 
culture not extensively found among the common people of any 
other land. 






130 APPENDIX. 



NOTE C. 



The writer believes most fully that he has not overstated this 
matter in the text. The desire for the intellectual development of 
their children, so that they may become qualified to bear some 
honorable part in the great activities of life, is one of the strongest 
of parental instincts. Our fathers shewed how powerful it was in 
them by founding schools and colleges almost before they had 
secured for themselves the ordinary comforts of life ; and with 
patient care they began the course of education in the family. 
Yale, Harvard, and other institutions, not only originated in 
parental solicitude, and tastes and impulses nourished in the 
household, but are largely dependent on these to-day, and always 
must be. 



NOTE D. 

The dissolution of the family by the going forth of its younger 
members one by one to the tasks of life, though it is always a sad 
process in itself, has yet its compensations. The happiness, the 
enduring welfare of the child, becomes to the thoughtful parent the 
paramount consideration. When, therefore, children go forth from 
beneath the paternal roof under favorable auspices, the pang of 
surrendering them is materially mitigated ; and if they are seen 
living usefully and well, and especially if they rise to eminence 
among the wise and good, parents cannot but find in this a rich 
and abiding satisfaction that in large measure compensates for the 
loss of their society. 



T^V 



APPENDIX. 131 



NOTE E. 



The poet Burns, though he went to an early grave the victim of 
-his own appetites, exhibited often an exquisite appreciation of what 
was morally beautiful and touching. In one of his letters he 
writes that he could never read without tears the following text 
from the New Testament : — 

" The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed 
them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and 
God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." 



Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son. 



HYMNS AND POEMS. 

By ray palmer, D.D. 
\(imo, Beaictifully printed. Cloth, gilt ed^es. $1.75. 

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' My Faith looks up to Thee, 
Thou Lamb of Calvary,' 
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experience ' for the service of Song,' his other poems evince high appreciation of the beauty 
of nature, and embody the tenderest and best affections." — JVew Englander. 



By the same Author. 

HYMNS OF MY HOLY HOURS, 

AND OTHER PIECES, 

By ray palmer, D.D. 

idmo. Beautifully printed. Cloth, gilt edges. $1.50. 

" Reverent, tender, rich in ripened faith, saturated with the very sentiment of a per- 
vading and healthful piety, sweet in their melody, and strong in their upward impulse, 
they will multiply and illuminate the holy hours of their readers as they bring away the 
spirit which marked the hours of their author." — MQr7ting Star. 

" In this new contribution to our treasures of Sacred Poetry, we recognize the same 
sweetness and unction with which the author's previous Hymns and Poems had made ua 
familiar," — Evangelist, 

PUBLISHED BY 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 

770 Broadway, corner of <^th Street, New York. 






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HINTS 



ON THE 

Jformatbit of ^Iciigbits opinions, 

ADDRESSED ESPECIALLY TO 

rOUNG MEN AND WOMEN OF 
CHRISTIAN EDUCATION 

By ray palmer, D.D. 
limo. 16$ pages. ClotJt, plain, $1.2^ ; gtlt^ $1.7$. 

" A series of earnest, able, and eloquent addresses, designed to reach the growing 
minds of young men and women who have been brought up under rehgious influences, 
and who yet have formed for themselves no decided standards of truth and duty by which 
to confirm their own faith and repel the attacks of scepticism and error. It is well calcu- 
lated to meet the young mind in the period of its active inquiry into the great themes of 
God, the soul, and religious duty." — .J. S. Times. 

"The style is easy, even when the argument is vigorous, and requires close attention ; 
and the whole tone of the volume is candid, its spirit admirable, and the aim of the authoi 
is so far above that of the mere theological polemic that prejudice is almost sure to be 
disarmed, and the work is likely to win by sympathy where it could not triumph alone 
by argument. ..." — Morning Star, N.H. 



PUBLISHED BY 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 

770 Broadijuay, cor tier of ()th Street^ 
NEW YORK. 



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